La Vie En Rose
by Plesiosaur
Summary: Real World Bubbline AU. In the most vibrant city on Earth two women literally stumble into each other and strike up an unlikely friendship. Socially awkward Bonnibel wants to get to know the mysterious and reclusive Marceline better but there's some dark secret the other girl is keeping, something about her past, her family and especially her father. Rated M for sex and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**And here we are, the long awaited Real World AU I've been working on. There are a few notes that go with this story; first of all because I don't know many places in the US well enough to write about them this is set in Britain, mostly in London. Also London is an amazing vibrant city, so I think it works to set this story there. Secondly, there are a lot of fairly heavy issues dealt with in this fic. Severe injuries and recoveries, murder, violent homophobia and at least two chapters with much more graphic sex scenes than I've previously written in this ship. There will be content warnings and trigger warnings on every chapter so I hope nobody finds it too upsetting. Also if you are not cool with transgender characters or Muslim characters then this is definitely not something you should read because two of the main characters cover those bases.**

 **Lastly, it was never really explored in Stakes what Marceline's mother's ethnicity actually was apart from not Caucasian. In respect of that I have chosen not to whitewash her, and instead described her as half-Indian and used the term 'desi' in moments of character self-description. This isn't meant in any way as a racial slur, it's a word that a number of my Indian friends use to describe themselves, so I hope it doesn't cause any offence to anyone.**

 **Also a shoutout to my awesome proof reader RaInBoWsKuLlDrOpS, and to my beautiful fiancée who has spent the last few months patiently listening to me rant about this fic obsessively. You guys rock.**

 **So for this chapter your Content Warnings: social anxiety, transgender characters, historic character death. I hope you enjoy this fic, please leave reviews because your words of support are really lovely and I love all my readers.**

* * *

"Hey watch where you're- oh crap!"

The camera leaped out of her hands and in slow motion she watched it swan dive to the polished marble floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces before she could so much as think about lunging to catch it. A slender hand had shot out and grabbed her jacket though, keeping her from pitching forward and potentially breaking her face on the hard floor, too. On reflection Bonnie decided she'd have rather have a smashed up nose than have trashed Jake's precious camera.

"Hey, you ok? Sorry about that. I'll get you a new one?"

"You broke Lady."

The stranger blinked at her.

"You... named your camera?"

Bonnie looked up, equally bewildered. She was standing in the middle of a fairly impressive display of shoes in the design museum; off balance and just a little too close to a tall heavily tattooed girl maybe only a year or two older than herself dressed like some kind of punk-hippie fusion. The stranger had a wild looking mane of long dark hair cascading to her waist, midnight black and very silky. Her pretty face was slightly angular and all high cheekbones and full lips. Bonnie flushed after a moment when she realised she was just standing there too close and staring at her like she'd never seen a woman before. She looked down and took a step backwards, mortified.

"Named my...? Oh, no! Not like that! It's not actually my camera, my friend named it after his girlfriend. She's called Lady, too. Um."

The extremely pretty punk-hippie girl nodded like that had made everything perfectly clear and wasn't just a garbled rush of absolute nonsense. Bonnie blushed and looked away again, angry with herself. She'd broken Lady-camera after Jake had begged her to be careful with it and now she was stammering like an idiot in front of some very pretty stranger who was still holding her sleeve. That was exactly the opposite of how Bonnie had wanted her day off to be. Although to be fair the camera really hadn't been her fault, the other girl had barged into her.

Pretty Stranger let go of her and dropped to all fours, scraping up the remains of Lady-camera. Bonnie watched her for a second, still slightly dazed from being suddenly within inches of such an unexpectedly lovely face. And wow, those yoga pants left very little to the imagination. She flushed again and hurried to help gather together the pieces of the smashed camera. Bonnie was now even more annoyed with herself because apparently an attractive girl couldn't bend over right in front of her in very tight pants without her brain plummeting straight into the gutter.

"Think Lady's salvageable?" Pretty Stranger asked with a sad smile, looking back over her shoulder at where Bonnie was staring forlornly at the wreckage. She shook her head, fighting back the sudden tears that were prickling hotly in the corners of her eyes. Jake had been absolutely thrilled when he'd gotten that camera. They'd all clubbed together and bought it for him last Christmas so that he could do some professional looking photos for his design work. Even Finn had contributed and he was saving for his surgeries, he didn't have a penny to spare.

"Hey, c'mon, don't look like you're gonna start crying. I said I'd get you a new one, right? We'll fix this, it's just a thing, nothing that we can't replace. At least you didn't get hurt, yeah?" Pretty Stranger told her in a gentle voice when she noticed Bonnie's distress.

"I know, I just, I promised to be careful with it. Jake trusted me and I should have worn the wrist-strap. I've lost all the pictures for his new collection."

And dammit she was so close to sniffling, why did she always end up in these crazy situations? Sitting on the floor of the V&A museum with some random pretty hippie chick surrounded by shards of Jake's former pride and joy, trying to explain that he'd named his camera after his girlfriend. She wished she'd never gotten out of bed that morning. Interacting with actual real people was always so stressful and she was on the verge of an anxiety meltdown. It was even worse because the other girl had noticed and commented on it. Bonnie wanted to just curl up and disappear.

Pretty Stranger was looking her up and down critically with lovely bronze coloured eyes, completely unaware of Bonnie's silent panic attack. Her gaze landed on the bag Jake had given Bonnie. It was one from his first collection with his trademark little yellow dog label prominent on the front pocket.

"Your bag's a Jacob Madigan." she said, sounding almost accusatory. "Where did you find that bag? I looked everywhere, he doesn't make bags."

"He doesn't make bags _anymore._ This was part of Jake's final undergrad project. He gave it to me for Christmas when he got the camera." Bonnie replied a little defensively, meltdown almost forgotten. Pretty Stranger's eyes looked like they might pop out.

"You actually _know_ him? For real? Oh man, did I just break Jacob Madigan's camera? Unreal! He's like, the most awesome underground designer on the scene right now!"

"I know who he is, I grew up in the house next door to him." Bonnie replied, a little stung. So Jake was getting popular with the fashion conscious eco crowd and that was really cool but her knees were beginning to ache from being crouched on the floor in front of a display of fabulous shoes by some famous label. And she was pretty sure a group of foreign teenagers had just taken a photo of the two of them rather than the exhibits. Probably because Pretty Stranger was still crouched on all fours in her almost obscenely tight yoga pants. Some highly inappropriate part of Bonnie wanted to follow those kids and ask for a copy of the picture they'd just snapped.

Bonnie was still staring after the tourist kids who'd pushed off into the rapidly thickening crowd when the same tanned slender hand that had stopped her from falling a minute before took hold of her arm and hauled her gently to her feet.

"Look, I feel awful for breaking the camera of the most awesome designer in London and also nearly knocking you to the floor. Do you wanna do lunch? My treat. And I can either buy a replacement for you to take back or write Mr Madigan a cheque. Or y'know, maybe meet him and befriend him and get exclusive info about his new collections? Just, whatever's cool."

And Bonnie swore she meant to say 'No way, you leave my friend alone. You made me look like a complete moron today and I am completely capable of buying Jake a replacement camera just as soon as I work out how much I can survive on for food this month'. But then Pretty Stranger flashed her a smile that was three parts raw charisma and one part pleading; her whole face lit up with an entirely faked innocence. Bonnie felt her knees go just a little bit weak.

"Yeah, fine, I'd like that."

It came out a bit breathless and squeaky and the internal monologue of self-doubt reasserted itself with a vengeance in Bonnie's brain.

 _See this is why attractive girls don't talk to you. You can't even accept a perfectly friendly invitation to lunch without sounding like some kind of thirsty stalker. Just be cool, ok?_

But Pretty Stranger hadn't noticed, she was weaving her way nimbly through the crowds towards the exit leaving Bonnie to scurry after her. At least nobody but the anonymous mass of tourists saw her continuing blush.

...

"Are you sure this is vegan?""

"I... think so? Bread is vegan, right? And peppers are definitely vegan. And garlic is a vegetable. So dough balls in garlic pepper sauce are bound to be vegan. I think. Um, sorry if I poisoned you."

 _Wow, smooth. You're certainly on fire today, Bonnibel. Maybe next you can amaze her with your incredible knowledge of things other than vegetable names. Idiot._

She was saved the trouble of having to make awkward conversation by the timely arrival of Jake, trailed by a sulky looking Finn and his best friend Susan. They must have been hanging with Jake when he'd gotten her text about coming to meet the girl who'd broken his camera. It was getting less and less awkward every time she hung out with Finn; mostly because when she could see how happy and comfortable he was in himself these days she knew their awful break up had been worth it. Still, Bonnie missed having someone to share the little things with. Having an ex-boyfriend felt weird but she still missed him. Even if it had been hard to accept his apology for the painful way things had ended between them. But the six months they hadn't been talking had been surprisingly hard on her and in the end they'd been unable to avoid each other. It was easier to just let time smooth over the cracks and try to find a new way forward as friends. Another six months later and they were almost back to where they'd started, just close friends again. It was like the events of a year before hadn't happened.

"Ah crap! What the hell did you do to it? C'mon Bon, I let you borrow my camera for like, one morning..."

Jake plopped down theatrically onto the chair next to hers with a huge sigh and helped himself to a slice of her definitely-not-vegan pizza. She didn't argue; he was totally right.

"Jake, I'm so sorry! But it wasn't my fault entirely, it was... um..." she floundered. Bonnie indicated the girl sitting across from her inspecting the garlic pepper sauce hesitantly with her brow furrowed. She hadn't stopped to ask her name and the dark haired girl hadn't offered it.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Marceline." she supplied, looking up brightly and shooting that charming smile at Jake. "And you must be Jacob Madigan! This is awesome, I mean seriously this is the best thing that's happened to me all year. I bought a pair of the shoes you were showing last year! They're amazing."

Jake looked stunned and shook the proffered hand with his mouth half open. Bonnie sympathised; the other girl was almost dazzling them with how bright and perfect her smile was. Susan rolled her eyes and grabbed a menu over the top of them. She shoved it in Finn's direction and flicked her fingers in brief sign language to him.

"It's just Jake." the older boy mumbled, embarrassed.

"Jake. Wow, I get to use your actual real name and everything. This is literally bananas."

"Hey Bon? I think we're gonna pass. Thanks for the invite but it's a bit pricey here." Finn mumbled, handing the menu back across the table. Bonnie nodded a little sadly. Finn didn't have much spare cash and Susan's sponsorship still wasn't finalised so they were both living off the absolute bare minimum for the foreseeable future. She wished she had enough spare to pay for them but she had a pretty limited income herself.

But the girl- Marceline, she'd said her name was- broke off from where she was gushing at Jake about his shoe designs and frowned around the table.

"Hey now, I invited you all out. I'm paying, buy whatever you want. Especially you, Jacob. Jake."

Finn and Susan shared an incredulous look and a quick flash of signing to confirm they'd both heard the same thing before they dove back towards the menus.

So that's how an attractive, mysterious and apparently wealthy stranger ended up buying Bonnie, Jake, Finn and Susan lunch. Bonnie stayed mostly silent through the meal, content to listen to the conversation unfold around her. Jake was talking animatedly about how awesome being a designer was. He'd taken a fair amount of ridicule from his friends for pursuing a more traditionally feminine career path but as he pointed out he was in an elite design school surrounded by gorgeous women all day. And when he'd first met Lady- the girl, not the camera- he'd offered to design and make any pair of shoes she wanted. He swore it was the best way to start a conversation with cute girls. Bonnie fleetingly wished she'd chosen to pursue shoe design instead of science; girls never wanted her to design a DNA amplification probe for them.

Susan was laughing at something Finn had said and Jake was rooting around in his bag for his sketchpad. Marceline turned her attention back to Bonnie and smiled again, causing the other girl to almost spill her glass of water.

"And what do you do, pretty-in-pink?"

Bonnibel took a moment to compose herself before she replied. She made a mental note to wear less pink next time if it was something people were going to comment on.

"Scientist. Um, I'm a, um, scientist."

"Any particular field of science or just like, all of it?"

Bonnie blushed again and had to gulp hard around the mouthful of water she'd just taken before she could reply.

"Um, genetics?" she mumbled, mortified. Marceline smiled more widely.

"Are you completely certain? You don't sound certain."

"Yeah, she's definitely a geneticist. She's got DNA base earrings and everything. And she gets really excited by gherkins." Finn jumped in with his trademark annoying grin in place.

Everyone laughed and Bonnie really wished in that moment that she could just hide under the table and possibly melt into a little ball of mortified social anxiety. Marceline was looking at her like she was some kind of interesting circus freak and even though Jake had heard the joke a thousand times before he was almost crying with laughter.

"There's a gene called 'gurken' and it's got some very interesting developmental properties in fruit flies. I don't get excited by it, I just like that it has a German name. I lived in Germany for a bit when I was a kid." Bonnie mumbled, giving in to the urge to hide and covering her face with her hands.

"C'mon, you know better than to let Fionna wind you up, Bon." Jake said with an eye roll. "She just- ah crap."

But it was too late. Finn had instantly gone from relaxed and laughing to stock still, staring wide eyed at his brother. Susan had gone silent too and Marceline was staring around in polite confusion, teacup halfway to her lips.

"Every fucking time, Jake! How hard is it for you to remember? I'm a _boy_ and my name is _Finn!"_ he hissed angrily, face already starting to turn the blotchy red that Bonnie knew meant he was maybe thirty seconds from bursting into tears.

Next second Finn had bolted out of the little cafe with Susan hot on his heels, Jake calling after him.

"Finn! Come on, man! It was an accident! Finn! Shit, I better go find him. Sorry, Bonnie, Marce. I'll catch you later, yeah?" and he grabbed his sketchbook and bag and sprinted to the door too. Bonnie blinked at the three empty chairs where her friends had been sitting a moment before.

"Did I miss something important?" Marceline asked carefully after a second of awkward silence.

Bonnibel hesitated, unsure how much she should disclose. But Jake had pretty much just outed Finn and if his careless words hadn't done it then the other boy's reaction probably would have. Nothing she could do but just explain.

"Finn's a transgender guy." Bonnie said with a sigh. "Jake's been mostly ok about it but he still slips up and uses the wrong name and pronouns from time to time. Finn gets upset, Susan acts like his angry bodyguard and it makes Jake really defensive. So then stuff like this happens. And I just sit here and do absolutely nothing to help. I mean what could I even do?"

But the dark haired girl was nodding like it all made sense.

"He's not been on testo long then? I wasn't sure at first. His voice is really good but he looks a lot younger than your average student. Chill, I don't care how he identifies so long as he's a nice guy. Must be rough being constantly misgendered by his brother though."

Bonnie nodded, relieved she didn't have to explain the basics of Finn's transition yet again. They may have ended on bad terms but she would defend his identity to the death.

"He's just had his first months of meds. It was really tough on Finn at first. For a while Jake was really upset too. I think he felt like he was losing something important. But now he's mostly ok with the idea that instead of losing his baby sister he gets an awesome little brother instead; they're the same person but just more open and happy. Finn's kinda sensitive right now because he's still adjusting to new hormones and his professional career is pretty much at a standstill. He's an athlete, marathons and stuff, can't run far in a chest binder though."

And Marceline nodded thoughtfully, not even a slight trace of disapproval on her face. Bonnie let out the breath she'd been holding slowly between her teeth. She might not see this girl again, ever, but if she did it was good to know she wasn't a bigoted transphobe. Nobody was going to be mean about Finn, not when Bonnie was there to argue them into silence.

"His girlfriend is nice, seems very protective of him." Marceline observed after a moment of awkward silence. At least that was a conversation starter.

"Susan isn't Finn's girlfriend, she's his best friend and former wing woman. From when they used to hit up lesbian bars, before he was out." Bonnie replied. "And now they're sport college buddies together. Finn runs and Susan's an up and coming name in athletics. Decathlon, javelin, weights. She's all about fitness."

"Ah, cool."

They finished their drinks in silence. Just when Bonnie was starting to get up the nerve to ask the other girl for her number ("You know, so I can pass it on to Jake for his camera") Marceline glanced at her watch and stood up abruptly with wide eyes.

"Crap! I've got to go. I have somewhere I needed to be, like, ten minutes ago." she announced in a rush. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out a wad of twenty pound notes, counted out a few of them and stuffed the cash into the hands of the confused waitress passing their table. Then she was hurrying out of the door, leaving Bonnibel staring after her rapidly retreating back.

"There's like, almost two hundred pounds here?" the waitress asked, confused. "Your bill is just under sixty five. Do you, uh, want the change? Or is it a really good tip?"

Bonnie hesitated, wavering between doing what was probably the right thing or making her own life just a touch more comfortable for the rest of the month. Even in her remote corner of the city rents were near enough extortion and Bonnie didn't have much left over at the end of each month. She didn't have time for a part time job now that her university study had really picked up the pace.

"Sure, the change please." she said after a moment's tortured thought. It must be a mistake. She'd track the pretty girl down and give the spare cash back. Definitely. Probably.

It wasn't until Bonnie was tucking the extra money into her own wallet and leaving a very generous tip that she noticed she'd also gotten handed back a business card along with the change. It was a plain minimalist design, clean cream card with an old fashioned typewriter style font. One side bore the name 'Marceline Petrikova' and a mobile number. She flipped it over, on the other side there were just three words printed; 'Activist', 'Feminist', 'Guitarist'. Well, that was good to know at least. Bonnie slid it into her wallet next to the cash she resolutely refused to feel guilty about. She decided to stop for groceries on the way home; fancy groceries of the kind she could normally only afford after receiving money from elderly relatives on her birthday.

...

"I made some new friends today, I think."

He just stared at her without a flicker of emotion. Today was a bad day; the worst he'd had in the six months since he'd moved.

"I walked into someone at the museum and I broke her camera by accident. She seems really nice, quiet and kinda shy though. It was her friend's camera actually and it's the weirdest coincidence. He's this amazing new designer I bought some shoes from last year. You know my really awesome red boots? Anyway I went for lunch with this girl and her designer friend and some other people they knew. It was nice, until they had an argument and left. I'm sorry I was late. Are you mad at me? I stopped by that little bakery you like on the way here. I brought you a slice of cheesecake to say sorry."

That got a bit of a response; he looked around and frowned at her.

"Cheesecake?"

"Yeah, the really nice vanilla one. Your favourite. I don't eat it but I know you do. Remember that time you took me to the cricket? And you had cheesecake and I stole your strawberries. And you told me all about the pick-up games you played on the beach in Barbados?"

"I lived in Barbados for a time, you know."

"I know you did, Uncle Simon. A long time ago, before I was born. You got married there. You told me the wedding on the beach was the loveliest thing you'd ever seen. And you took me there on holidays when I was thirteen; we ate barbecued fish on that same beach. Do you remember any of that?"

He nodded happily and then turned to stare out of the window again but she was certain he didn't have any idea what she was talking about. Barbados had been lovely; it felt nice to talk about their memories even if she was increasingly just reminiscing with herself. Marceline struggled to keep her sigh as quiet as possible. Somehow he still noticed if she looked sad and she didn't want to give him any reason to be distressed. Simon had already had more than enough distress in his life on her account.

"Have you seen Betty today?" he asked her after a few quiet moments.

"No, Simon. Not today."

It was easier to just say that every time he asked her. When he'd first moved into the care home she'd tried to explain that Betty had been killed in the house fire a long time ago. But he'd been so heart broken. It was like he was hearing the news for the first time over and over every time she had to tell him. It was awful for her to relive it too and then she'd had to comfort him while he cried for his long dead wife. He'd forgotten all about it half an hour later and he'd asked her if she'd seen Betty so she'd just told him no, not today.

They sat in silence for a while longer listening to the birds singing outside in the thin afternoon sunshine. It took a while before she realised she wasn't just imagining it; Simon was humming quietly to himself. She listened hard and then couldn't keep back the nostalgic smile that spread across her face. It was 'Strawberry Fields Forever', their favourite song together when she'd been little. It was the first thing Simon had taught her to play on the piano.

"Marcy."

She sat forward attentively. It wasn't often he said her name anymore and she really hadn't thought he'd recognised her today.

"Yeah, Simon? I'm right here, what do you need?"

He paused and looked at her, seeming confused that she'd spoken to him or that there was even another person in the room with him at all.

"She's a good girl, my little Marcy. She's so smart and so brave. She's been through so much but she still smiles every morning when I wake her up for school. She's a good girl."

He nodded to himself before he turned back to the window, still humming softly.

"Yeah, she tries her best. She doesn't want to let you down, Simon. You'll always be her hero. No matter what." Marcy replied around the sudden lump in her throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was totally gonna wait to post this next chapter but then my girlfriend was like 'NO POST IT NOW' so you have her to thank/blame for this. I think she just wanted me to be quiet for a while so she has time to knit in peace, she's making me a herringbone Viking scarf.**

 **A quick note on names; it's hard to think of human names for characters who don't have human names in the series. So if you were wondering Lydia is LSP, a hat-tip to Lydia Bennett from Pride and Prejudice because I feel that the two of them are kindred spirits and I can only imagine the kind of mischief they'd get up to together. Jake's surname is Madigan because it is an actual for real Irish surname and also it means 'little dog' and is adorable. Lady is just... Lady. Because that is a legit and fashionable name in Korea and I'm uncomfortable with renaming her to make her more western, why shouldn't she be culturally Korean? A few names have had to be changed just so they make sense in the real world setting but I'll let you know who they are in case you can't work it out. There are only a tiny number of OCs in this story and they are all minor background characters so unlike the Foundlings series it isn't OC heavy.**

 **Review if the mood takes you, I genuinely adore all my reviewers so much!**

 **Content warning: Annoying!Finn, social anxiety, minor bad language, very mild references to ladysexing.**

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"Are you gonna start actually snogging that card or what?"

Bonnie jumped at the unexpected voice and repressed the panicked urge to slide the business card out of view under her book. She'd fiddled with it so much over the last week that the edges of the card were starting to fray and the ink was nearly illegible. Finn plopped down into the hard wooden seat next to her and grinned in that irrepressible way that always made her a little feel better. He flopped down across her textbook so she didn't have any excuse to ignore him.

"Shut up you dink, I was just looking at it." she mumbled in embarrassment, blushing but smiling back shyly. It was nice to see him even if he was getting in the way of her studying. Not that she'd been studying anyway. Bonnie had been staring at the business card and trying to figure out yet again if Marceline had left it deliberately for her.

"Oooh Bonnie likes a giiiirl." Finn sang, laughing and stretching out a little smugly. He'd heard that testo injections could make him go into another growth spurt and he insisted that even though he'd only been on his new medication for a month his limbs were already beginning to grow again. He was enjoying showing it off despite Bonnie having told him repeatedly that it'd take much longer for the physical changes to really become obvious.

Finn continued to grin at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively until Bonnie sighed and handed him the business card. There was no use even trying to lie to Finn. He'd always been able to read her like an open book. Bonnie blushed again and nodded, accepting that she did in fact like a girl.

"Ok, I will admit that I do like her. She's very charming and charismatic and she is really cute. And, well, really intimidating too. I dunno, Finn. I want to call her but I'm like ninety percent certain she left this card by accident and my gaydar can't get a read on her anyway. She's too… bright. It's like trying to look directly into the sun." Bonnie said with a wistful sigh.

He just smiled back and nodded like that hadn't been crazy and completely disjointed. Finn was one of the few people who stood a good chance of understanding where she was coming from; he knew her better than just about anyone else. She'd missed that. Missed someone knowing what she meant even when she wasn't completely sure herself.

"Most of that's just your social anxiety talking. You're worried she thinks you're fancier than you are because of how you met her. Like, she thinks you're the kind of person who hangs around the cultural displays at museums and knows a lot of pleasantly quirky cafes. Well, you kinda are. You're mostly panicky about how she paid the bill. So she's from money and that's scary for you cause we're all so broke, but so what?" he replied after a while, looking uncharacteristically serious when he saw that his ex was genuinely worried about it. "I mean, even if it's as a joke, who carries around business cards? Or just offers to buy a brand new top-of-the-range camera right off the bat? Takes perfect strangers to lunch and just throws a handful of cash at the waitress? She doesn't have any idea how weird it is to see her casually hand over more money in one go than you've spent on groceries in the last month. But she's rich, and really hot, and took you to lunch. She didn't even have a freak out and leave after Jake outed me, the bastard. She wouldn't have done all that for no reason and she wouldn't have left her card for no reason either. Ask her out, flirt with her, snog her face off, slide her panties off an- hrph."

Bonnie deftly clamped her hands over Finn's mouth and silenced the end of his little speech before she actually exploded from embarrassment. It didn't help that he'd come to find her in the middle of her university library and was talking in an unthinking loud voice. People were peering around the shelves to stare at them. Bonnie could feel the prickle of a hundred curious eyes on her back and her anxiety was starting to peak again.

"Finn! Shut your mouth!" she hissed at him, glancing around apologetically. "Are you even here to study or did you come to the medical building just to annoy me?"

He rolled his eyes but pulled a stack of books out of his bag and pointed at them appeasingly. She reluctantly removed her hand from his mouth.

"Studying, see? Us sports science guys do know how to read, y'know. Besides I had some nutrition lectures here. They don't normally let gorillas like us into the med school unless they need us as lab rats but your library is quieter and I thought it'd be nice to surprise you."

They sat and studied silently for a while, comfortable together in an entirely unconscious way. If she'd have stopped to consider it Bonnie might have felt weird about hanging out with her ex like that. But long before he'd asked to be called Finn and before they'd spent a couple of tumultuous months making out all over their corner of the city and before he'd come out as trans even to himself he'd been her very best friend. The kid over the garden fence she could always talk to, the person who knew her best in the world since she was ten years old and had moved back to England from Germany. Sure, she'd known that kid as Fionna, but they were the same person in all the ways that mattered. And Finn had always had her back. He always knew whatever it was she needed even when she didn't know herself. When her Dad had left and her whole twelve year old world had come crashing down around her they'd sat in the tiny treehouse in Finn's garden together and talked for hours until she'd found some kind of balance again. Finn had been a constant in her life for more than ten years now.

So if Finn stole her phone when she was engrossed in reading about RNA self-replication theories and texted the number from the business card it could only be because he thought it was good for her. He was trying to be a good friend to her. And really how mad could she be with him?

So mad. Just as soon as she stopped having a huge meltdown because _oh holy fuck_ he texted that girl from the museum?

Her phone buzzed with a message and she glanced down at it, thinking it was probably her roommate Lydia. She almost had a heart attack when she saw the name on the screen and read the message.

'Hot Rich Chick': _hey bonnie didnt expect youd get in touch its been ages but yeah id love to go to dinner tomorrow night ramiros at 8 sounds awesome cya there x x x_

There was a message above the reply that she could guarantee she hadn't written.

 _Heyyy it's Bonnie, you broke my camera at the museum? So I found your business card and wondered if you'd like to get dinner and talk more about Jake's designs? Ramiro's on Bethnal Green at 8 tomorrow? Let me know and I'll book a table, looking forward to it xxx_

"What did you do, you absolute butt?" she hissed at Finn, mortified beyond words.

"I set you up on a date, Bonnibel. She's hot! And rich! Go to Ramiro's and get your lez on tomorrow night and don't forget me when you're looking for a best man." he replied with a smug grin. He slid his books into his bag and danced out of her reach when she lunged across the table to grab him for some form of violent revenge. Finn laughed and waved, sauntering out of the library with a wink. Bonnie rested her face on her open text book and breathed shallowly through her nose to control the panic then counted to a hundred slowly in German to try to calm herself. Ok. Thanks to Finn and his meddling she had a date. With a really hot and probably quite rich girl. Tomorrow. At a quirky vegan restaurant that Finn must have deliberately looked up so this whole thing was premeditated and he was probably just bullshitting her about having lectures in her building. He'd just wanted to steal her phone when he knew she'd be so distracted by studying she wouldn't notice. Bonnie resolved to kill Finn as soon as she could face talking to people again.

After several long minutes of slow breathing and silent counting Bonnie stood. She closed her books and gathered them together into an untidy bundle before exiting the library and heading to where she'd left her bicycle chained to the railings outside. She had a date to get ready for and only- she glanced at her watch- twenty six hours to prepare. God, she'd better hurry home and start choosing clothes.

...

"I'd slip a few condoms into your wallet but you might give her the wrong impression." Lydia called from their tiny sofa, eyes still glued on her phone.

Bonnie paced nervously and resisted the urge to tug on her hair. She'd swept it up into a deceptively elaborate 'casual' up-do and just thinking about touching it could cause the whole thing to tumble back down around her ears. Lydia glanced up and rolled her eyes.

"Like, seriously. You're gonna wear out the carpet. Sit down and chill, you big dork."

Bonnie perched on the edge of the sofa next to her friend and fiddled with her bracelet, then the TV remote, then her bracelet again, then Lydia slapped her hands.

"What if I don't like any of the vegan food?" Bonnie burst out after a moment. "What if some horrifying situation arises where my digestive system isn't used to food without animal products and something really gross and disturbing happens? What if she's straight and thinks we're just hanging out as gal pals? What if-"

"Oh. My. God. Bonnie! Would you shut up for a minute before you give yourself an ulcer from stressing about tonight? I've been to Ramiro's a few times, it's award winning and they do vegetarian food too so you can get pasta with egg and cheese. Is that enough animal product for you? So at least you don't need to worry she's going to make you inflate like a methane filled balloon with her funky vegan gunk. You can have milk and egg all you want. And yeah, maybe she's straight! Most people are, but she's going to a cosy little first date restaurant with you isn't she? You'll only know if you go and like, talk to her. It's that simple. Christ." Lydia finished with a roll of her eyes, then looked back at her phone again. She smiled when she noticed she'd gotten a new message from Brad.

For all she was intensely annoying and permanently texting at least a hundred boys at once, Lydia knew what she was about when it came to dating. And she was a surprisingly good friend to Bonnie as well as an excellent person to share an apartment with. She was often out at book launches and fashion shows schmoozing with big names in the fashion industry trying to find a job as a personal assistant so a lot of the time Bonnie had the place to herself.

"Thanks, Lyds. I'm just nervous. I really like her." Bonnie murmured, earning herself a brief hug.

"Whatever, nerd. Go have an awesome first date, and hurry up because it's seven fifteen already and you have to get halfway across town."

Bonnie was on her feet and out of the door within five minutes. She jogged along towards the underground station swearing quietly in German under her breath to help keep herself calm.

In the end she was actually pretty early. The restaurant wasn't actually as far away as Lydia had suggested. Bonnie ended up perched on a stool in the quirky restaurant bar staring into the depths of an overpriced glass of dry white wine with her stomach tying itself into panicky knots. She tried to fix her messed up hair in the mirror above the bar but gave it up as a bad job when her prodding at it only made it into a bigger tangle than ever. She'd just have to deal with it looking a bit crazy. Besides Marceline would probably think she'd deliberately styled it that way; she seemed like the sort of person who spent a long time making her hair look fashionably messy. It was just a shame that on Bonnie it looked like she didn't own a hairbrush whereas on the elegant hippie girl it looked stylish and interesting.

In a last minute attempt to stop herself fidgeting Bonnie ended up texting Finn, just because she didn't know what else to do and because she'd had time to think about it and partially forgiven him for interfering. He was right, she needed to get out more and there was an outside chance this might actually work out. Then she'd have to thank him.

 _I'm here and she's nowhere to be seen. My hair is crazy and the wine at this place is so expensive. I hate you and this is all your fault. Damn you and your meddling._

After a minute her phone buzzed with a reply.

 _Haha you love me really! And your hair is always crazy, it's cute like that. And stop drinking wine then if it's expensive, just have water with your meal. She's vegan, she'll think that's awesome._

Bonnie frowned at her phone and typed out a quick reply.

 _Yeah well your hair is crazy. Crazy blonde you lucky bastard, try being a redhead and turning the same colour as your hair when you have to run anywhere. Yeah alcohol probably isn't gonna help. I just thought it might settle my nerves but... nah still feel about four seconds away from full meltdown. She's late._

Bonnie fiddled with the stem of her wine glass and waited for his reply. It was already ten past eight; she'd wait another twenty minutes but if her date didn't show she was going home. Bonnie was increasingly certain she was going to get stood up anyway because why would anyone want to go out on a date with her? Especially not mysterious and beautiful girls that smiled like the sun and had intricate tattoos and could definitely do better than some socially inept- her phone buzzed again, interrupting her internal dialogue of panic.

 _Chill, she's probably just delayed. Breathe slow and calm and remember you're crazy clever and beautiful too. Kind and sensitive and amazing and any girl would be incredibly lucky to be on a date with you. Relax, it'll be fine._

That was... a nice but slightly uncomfortable thing for her ex to say. Bonnie was frowning at her phone trying to work out if Finn had crossed some unspoken line or not when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and there was her date, looking even cuter than she had at the museum in a snugly fitting dark red tunic sweater and grey leggings. Bonnie tried to speak but she was caught off guard and ended up just staring at Marceline with her mouth hanging halfway open, blinking in surprise.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I was hanging out with a friend and I lost track of time and then my stupid ex-boyfriend needed to talk to me about something and, anyway I'm here now. Did you look at the menu yet? You decided what you wanna eat?"

She headed off towards the tables leaving Bonnie to grab her glass and follow as she stared at the back of the other girl's sleek inky black head. _Ex-boyfriend? ...Dammit._

The conversation flowed fairly well over dinner. Mostly Marceline asked Bonnie lots of questions about her thesis work and listened raptly while she explained the scientific concepts behind her various experiments. It was very flattering, she supposed. So nice to meet someone who was genuinely interested in her work, who found the science fascinating even if they didn't always understand it. Someone who was smart and funny and cute and- _straight_ , her brain helpfully supplied when she found herself gazing dreamily at the other girl and imagining what those lips might taste like. _Stop right there, Bonnibel. Straight. Ex-boyfriend. Remember? Straight and beautiful and off limits, so just stop torturing yourself._

Because of course she was straight, she was too damn perfect not to be. She probably thought it was a mate-date. Or even worse, she was only there because she wanted to be closer to Jake's magical new shoe collection. Well Bonnie couldn't blame her for that, she'd seen some of Jake's preliminary sketches and they were phenomenal. He was already getting a name for himself and he'd only been selling his designs professionally for a couple of years.

Bonnie even tried to steer the conversation away from her thesis a couple of times by asking Marceline more about herself. But each time the dark haired girl deflected her pretty thoroughly after giving her a long and thoroughly unreadable look. Then she asked something else about some obscure aspect of genetics. It was too hard not to begin spouting about the joys of her research when Bonnie had a captive audience that actually wanted to hear about it. The other girl was probably just shy, Bonnie figured. Or private. Probably just really private.

"Oh, I just remembered!" Marceline interrupted with a grin. Bonnie had been casting around for a way to describe transcription pre-initiation complex interactions that didn't make it sound impossibly boring and complicated. "I've got something for Mr Madig- Jake. Do you think you can give him this cheque? I was gonna buy him another Lady camera but I figured a guy as awesome as him should have his pick of what's on the market right now. So I wrote him out a decent amount to cover it."

Oh, right then. So it was about Jake's camera after all. She shouldn't be disappointed, Bonnie told herself sternly. That's why she was there; she was an ambassador for Jake and his amazing designs and rapidly developing reputation. She should be proud to help him achieve his dreams, not be harbouring sappy fantasies about leaning across the table and tenderly kissing his enigmatic benefactor.

"Yeah, sure. I'll drop it round to him tomorrow after my lectures." she muttered, accepting the cheque and slipping it into her bag without even glancing at it. She didn't want to know how much Marceline was giving her friend. Finn was right, she was clearly from a very wealthy family and had no idea how uncomfortable it was to watch her throwing that amount of money around in front of a group of broke students. Probably she was a trust fund baby, Bonnie decided. She probably lived in some palatial mansion in Kensington with private butlers and house keepers.

Bonnie stared down into her half empty glass of water as the conversation lapsed. There was a weird empty feeling in the pit of her stomach despite the very good vegetarian risotto she's just eaten. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised that it wasn't actually a date. When she really thought about it she wasn't sure why she'd ever assumed a perfectly gorgeous woman would just stumble into her life and want to go to a romantic dinner with her for no other reason than because she'd asked. It had never happened in the past and there was absolutely no basis for imagining that that was what was happening now. She felt like a massive idiot for ever entertaining the idea.

"Hey, listen. I have a gig this weekend and we're trying to fill up the audience with friendly faces. I was wondering if you'd be interested in a completely free evening of live music with only the fairly usual obligation that you hang out with me afterwards and applaud where appropriate?" Marceline asked quietly. She was staring into her own glass and looking maybe a little unsure of herself, too.

"I, um, yeah, that'd be nice." Bonnie stuttered in reply. Just a gig. Friend-date. Not an actual date. Her heart still tripped weirdly to think about it and she had to squash down the self-conscious grin that wanted to spread across her face.

"Cool. Ask your friends along too, it'd be really cool to get a proper crowd going."

Oh and there was that sharp stab of disappointment again, no matter how many times she yelled internally that the other girl was _straight_ and it was so definitely not a date. Well nobody asked a mess of people they'd only met once along on a date with them. So yeah, clearly it was not a date. More than anything Bonnie wished she could just go home and curl up in her pyjamas and feel stupid in the comfort of her own bedroom without having to make polite conversation with someone who really just wanted to be girly friends. And she'd already said that she'd go, even better. Now she'd have to turn up at least for a while or risk the social anxiety of having to make up an excuse for her absence. Bonnie was uncomfortable with lying even when it was to get out of a gig she really didn't want to go to.

Just like the day in the cafe Marceline insisted on paying the bill. This time she didn't run away but she didn't let Bonnie see how much it came to either and she left what looked like a very generous tip. They walked away from the restaurant towards the nearest underground station together in what Bonnie felt was a somewhat tense silence.

"So, this is my station." Bonnie mumbled when they reached the underground. She shuffled her feet embarrassedly; mortified beyond justification at how much effort she'd put into her hair and outfit to go and have casual dinner with some random straight rich girl.

"Listen, I had a really nice night." Marceline murmured, smiling unreadably at her. "You're certainly better dinner conversation than my normal bowl of vegan noodles and a handful of strawberries. Would you like to do this again some time? Cause I've really enjoyed hanging out with you tonight."

"Mm, maybe yeah." Bonnie agreed unenthusiastically. She stared down at the pavement and wondering if she'd ever felt quite so awkward in her whole life.

She was quite unprepared when she looked up and the pretty dark haired girl was entirely too close and leaning in towards her. Bonnie's heart seized, she went rigid in panic. Was she about to-

Marceline hugged her gently and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, lingering for just a fraction of a second longer than was necessary.

"Call me, yeah? Or text me, whatever. We'll hang out again."

Then she was disappearing down the steps to the underground leaving nothing but warm tingling on the side of Bonnie's face where soft lips had ghosted over the skin just a second before. Bonnie stared after her, confused and a little dazed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sneaky!update while girlfriend is in the shower! So far I've gotten some really lovely feedback on this fic and I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who sent me their kind words of support, you guys are beautiful and wonderful.**

 **This chapter has a character who for the purposes of this fic has been developed a bit more than in cannon, who is a Muslim (which, if anyone had a problem with, politely GTFO now because I do not tolerate discrimination of any kind), who will be fairly important to the plot and who uses a fair chunk of artistic licence. He just needed some extra development to become human and I had a really nice time researching his culture. Anyway, don't hate on him, he's a sweetie really and I am very protective of him.**

 **Content Warning: people from cultures that may be different to your own (or the same as yours, in which case yaay representation is beautiful), some bad language, a minor OC because (character) needed a mother, transboy problems, slight medication abuse. Do not take anyone else's medication, irrespective of if you read about it happening on the internet, because this is fiction and your life is not.**

* * *

 _"...And when you speak, angels sing from above_

 _Everyday words seem to turn into love songs._

 _Give your heart and soul to me_

 _And life will always be,_

 _La Vie En Rose."_

"Oh the crowd goes wild for the girl!" Mo yelled when the last note died away, waving his arms and cheering loudly. Marceline slid off the arm of the sofa she'd been balanced on as gracefully as a ballerina and folded forward into a demure bow with her ukulele raised like a trophy above her head

"Thank you thank you, I humbly accept your adulation." she replied with a shy smile.

Mo quirked one heavy dark eyebrow.

"Yo, remember how English is not my first language?"

"Sorry, man. Adulation means, like, praise and applause and stuff."

"Oh, right. Cool, yeah, I totally adulate you."

"...I'm not sure it can be used as a verb, but whatevs. Thanks man."

The boy scratched his head with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his heavy features.

"It is a bit... unusual though. You know, for playing at a pub gig. Like, do they know you are bringing a ukulele as well as all your other instruments and stuff? Will not everyone be expecting you to play new wave punk?" he asked with a frown.

"I love a ton of different musical styles and I really like that song. I want to open my set with it so they'll just have to deal with it being a bit different. Besides, it reminds me of my Mum." Marceline added quietly.

Mo stood and wrapped his long arms around her shoulders in a hug. He squeezed a little harder than was really comfortable to cover his awkward teenaged embarrassment at being around a potentially emotional female. Marceline winced at the extra pressure his enthusiastic hug put on her tattooed back and left shoulder but by the time he'd pulled away she'd wiped any trace of discomfort from her face and was smiling at him gently.

"I am sorry, chick." he replied in as soft a voice as he could manage, bopping her on the shoulder when he let her go. "It is really pretty and you sing it well, actually."

Just then a heavily accented voice drifted through from outside the apartment door followed by a loud knocking.

"Baseem Mohammed Al Omiri you get yourself downstairs and clean that pit you call a bedroom before your father gets home or there will be no music and no video games for the rest of the month!"

"Off you run, B-Mo, before your Mum breaks my door down." Marceline grinned at him. Mo sighed heavily and grabbed his school bag from where he'd slung it on the couch.

"Thanks for helping me with the sheet music. Can I come over again tomorrow after school?" he asked her hopefully.

"Sure, so long as your Mum doesn't mind." she replied with a laugh.

She opened the door for him while he was still struggling to balance his bag, coat and the huge strong case containing the second hand bass guitar she'd given him. Mrs al-Ahmad, Mo's mother, smiled when she saw Marceline and shook her hand. It was an affectation she'd always had when greeting people she liked even if she'd known them for years.

"Marceline, thank you so much for helping Baseem Mohammed with his music. I hope he has not been a problem for you?" she enquired over the top of her thick glasses.

"Not at all, Mrs al-Ahmad. He'd been an angel like always." Marceline replied.

"Mum, can I go watch Marceline play this weekend at The Fox and Hounds? They are having a live music night and she said I can be her roadie and help the band set up!" Mo said brightly, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement at the prospect. His mother frowned at him.

"The Fox and Hounds? That is the public house next to the underground station on the high street, yes? You will not be drinking any alcohol, Baseem!" she warned him with a heavy frown.

"No, Mum. Alcohol is poison. Besides, Marceline does not drink alcohol either and she will be there to look after me." B-Mo replied with his most appealing smile, the one he knew his mother couldn't resist.

Mrs al-Ahmad sighed and nodded. As reluctant as she was to let Mo go to a pub and be tempted by alcohol Marceline going with him sealed the deal for her. Ever since their friendly upstairs neighbour and her eccentric uncle had taken her eldest son under their wing when he'd been struggling in school Mrs al-Ahmad regarded Marceline as some kind of living saint. Especially when she found out the girl was only nineteen and a full time carer for Simon. Despite appearances Mrs al-Ahmad had always had a good opinion of Marceline; she was surprisingly open to a heavily tattooed punk tutoring her son in bass guitar and buying him video games consoles. If she was going to be there then Mo's mother could rest easy that nothing awful would happen to him and no poison alcohol would enter his system.

"Yes, you may go and help at the concert, Baseem. So long as your bedroom is clean. Come on now, your dinner will be ready soon. Marceline, will you join us? There is plenty to go around." Mrs al-Ahmad asked her with a fond smile.

"No, thank you for your kind offer but I already ate. See you later, Mo. Ma'a as-salaama." she replied to Mrs al-Ahmad, making the older woman smile again and squeeze her hand before taking her leave.

The lanky boy and his mother walked off towards the stairwell together. Mo waved over his shoulder at Marceline with a huge grin in place. They were talking rapidly in a dialect of Arabic too quick for Marceline to follow, she'd been trying to learn to speak it for a while and was pretty ok with the basics. But the way Mo and his Mum talked made her despair she'd ever be good enough to hold a full conversation in it. It was thoughtful of them that they always switched to speaking in English when she was around even if they were talking to each other. She'd had a hard enough time just trying to understand how Muslim family names worked, at first Marcy had been calling Mo by his father's name by accident and it had stuck. Now he was forever B-Mo to her and his younger brothers A-Mo and H-Mo loved their nicknames, too. Their father was possibly not so happy about it but he was very rarely home anyway. He ran a small grocery store on the high street and he only came home to sleep and eat before running back to watch the shop; he was one of the hardest working people Marceline had ever met.

Marceline closed the door to her apartment, still humming cheerfully to herself, and wandered down the hall into her neat little kitchen. She'd not been entirely truthful about having already eaten but Mo's mum had never quite been able to wrap her head around a vegan diet. Last time she'd cooked for Marceline she'd made a dish that was laced with samna which Mo had quietly informed her halfway through the meal was made from milk. She'd had the most appalling stomach ache for days after politely finishing her dinner with the family and wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

Marcy grabbed a handful of assorted fruits and quickly sliced them into a bowl then took them through to the cluttered lounge. She curled up comfortably on the sofa with the bowl balanced on her stomach, intending to switch Simon's old and much repaired radio on and enjoy her fruit salad and perhaps read something interesting on her laptop. She had a mouthful of apple and kiwi when her phone started buzzing on the coffee table and she groped for it carefully, not wanting to spill the fruit everywhere.

"Mm, eyp?" she asked around the mouthful, grabbing the phone and answering the call without even glancing at the screen. An unfamiliar voice spoke and that was the only warning that she had.

"Hello, Miss Abadeer?"

She froze, swallowing her half chewed food hard because it was either that or choke on it. Nobody had caller her by that name in years. She'd changed it as soon as legally possible; she'd gone with Simon and done it on the morning of her sixteenth birthday. The whole world knew her as Marceline Petrikova. Just hearing her old name again sent shivers of ancient terror down her spine and caused her shoulder to flare with a fierce aching pain.

"Who the fuck is this?" she hissed, sitting bolt upright in shock.

"Well now, you're a hard woman to track down, Marceline! My name is Frank Davidson from the Sunday Sun newspaper and I heard from a contact that you might be interested in putting forward your side of the story. What with your father's upcoming-"

She hit the cancel call button before he'd even finished his sentence and leapt up from the sof with her stomach suddenly churning angrily and old agony jolting across her skin.

"How did you get my number you bastard?" she growled at the now silent phone. The bowl of fruit had spilled right across the floor and she'd have to clean it up later. She'd lost her appetite anyway and she was suddenly too furious to care. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. It was about the only thing happening in her head because it felt like all her thoughts had been frozen solid with shock and terror.

Marcy hesitated for less than a second before giving in to instinct and fleeing the room completely.

Without a backwards glance Marceline grabbed her jacket and keys and ran out of the door, slamming it shut a lot harder than she needed to on her way out. She was halfway down the stairwell before she winced in apologetic guilt because that must have been entirely too loud for the Al Omiris sitting at the dinner table below. They'd probably just gotten little Mahtab down to sleep, likely she'd be screaming the house down again now.

But Marceline didn't stop running and she didn't knock on their door to apologise. She just kept on sprinting along the pavement away from the apartment block and down the crowded street towards the underground station. She was taking the well-worn route back to somewhere she knew she at least wouldn't be harassed by journalists.

...

Kingdom Road was not in the flashiest corner of London but it was quiet and leafy, pretty in its way. It was full of old houses with interesting architecture and neat miniature gardens that faced the pavement. They lent the whole neighbourhood an air of faded grandeur and old world charm. It was definitely the sort of place Simon would have enjoyed before his illness took hold. Six months ago when she'd first moved him into Whitehills Care Home he'd still had lots of good days when he remembered her and he'd asked repeatedly to come home. He'd told her he was better and he could look after himself; that she was sweet to worry but he didn't need full time care. That didn't happen so much anymore and Marceline wasn't sure if she was glad of it or not. Simon was having another bad day though. He'd hugged her back carefully when she arrived but the confusion in his eyes told her he really wasn't sure if she was his niece or his half-sister or somebody else entirely.

"They got hold of my number again, Simon." she told him quietly. Marcy twisted the wing of the stuffed parrot she'd bought him for Christmas two years ago around and around between restless fingers. "How do they do it? I change my phone number every six months and I've made it quite clear I don't want them to contact me ever again every time they try. Why won't they just leave me alone? And they used my old name, _that bastard's_ name. I hate him so much."

"Gunther loves sunflower seeds." Simon replied bewilderedly, nodding towards the stuffed parrot. The real Gunther had died before she'd even moved in with him. Marceline barely remembered the old harlequin macaw that Simon had kept when she was very small. All she knew was that he'd been the most evil bird she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. He'd never been pleasant with anyone but her uncle. She probably still had scars from his talons under her hair.

"Yeah, I know. Can I just stay here with you for a while? I don't want to go home right now. We can watch some TV; I bet there's some cricket on one of the sports channels."

Simon nodded and smiled and for a bittersweet second he looked just like he was perfectly lucid and understood every word she'd spoken to him.

"Oh, I like cricket!"

"I know you do, Uncle Simon. I don't but I always had fun watching the cricket with you anyway. Do you remember when you bought me an autographed Sachin Tendulkar bat in Mumbai? It was for you really but I pretended to know who he was anyway. Still got it, it's somewhere with your stuff." she replied with a sad smile.

"I bought a special cricket bat for Marcy. That's my niece. We went to India together when she was ten, you know. Her Mum was half Indian, my baby sister. My Dad never would admit which affair Claudia came out of but my mother loved her just the same anyway and she was never left out of the family. I wanted Marcy to connect with her heritage after she lost Claudia." Simon replied proudly. She hugged him just because she could, because he'd been the most thoughtful uncle she could have wished for when she was a child and she still loved him dearly.

They watched the highlights of an Indian domestic Twenty20 test match between the Rajasthan Royals and the Kolkata Knight Riders. Simon talked and talked, telling her over and over that each team could only bat for a maximum of twenty overs. Every time she asked him to explain what an over was he beamed and launched into a detailed description of the basics of the game. By the time she'd been twelve Marceline could have written a book about the rules of cricket despite not really being a fan. But Simon was so happy every time she asked him about it that she couldn't help keeping up a low murmur of conversational questions.

"Do you remember when you came to see little Marcy's school play, Uncle Simon?"

"She was really good in her play. Marcy's my niece." he told her again with a nod. "My half-sister's daughter. Claudia was my sister and she died. She's a good girl, and so smart. Have you seen Betty today?"

"Not today, Uncle Simon."

"Oh. Have you seen Claudia?"

He'd asked her more and more recently if she'd seen her long dead mother but it was still a shock to hear it. Before his early dementia had set in he'd not spoken her mother's name in more years than Marceline could remember. She shook her head sadly.

"No, Uncle Simon. Claudia died. Don't you remember? And you got custody of her daughter because you were the closest family she had left. She was only seven when she came to live with you. Do you remember any of that? You held her hand at the funeral."

"Marcy?"

"Yes."

"My niece. She... she got hurt. But I saved her, I kept her safe."

"You were so brave. She's still prouder of you than she can say, you know."

"Marceline."

"That's right, that's me. I'm Marceline, I'm your niece. Don't you recognise me, Simon? I still play the guitar you bought me. I'm a professional musician now like you always told me I could be."

"You're Hunson's daughter?"

"Yes, and Claudia's."

"He was always shady. He has no morals at all." Simon replied wisely.

"Yeah, I remember. Hunson's a real bastard."

...

Perhaps it would have made Marceline feel a little better to know that across the city her new acquaintances were having a pretty terrible evening, too.

Finn curled tighter into his duvet and fought valiantly against the tears. But they forced their way out past his eyelids anyway no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that boys _didn't_ cry because everything hurt.

"Come on, man! Finn! Let me in bro, I made you some hot chocolate!" Jake boomed from outside the closed door.

"Go away!" Finn yelled, and he cried harder when he realised his voice had slid back up in pitch because of the pain.

The doorbell rang and Finn supposed Jake must have gone to answer it because he didn't reply. But then a few minutes later a much softer voice spoke outside his door. It was the very last voice he wanted to hear when he was emotional and hated himself and was consumed by cramping pain right through his stomach and lower abdomen.

"Finn? Jake called me, I brought you some of my codeine. Don't tell anyone you're taking my medication though. Do you wanna let me in?"

Great, even his stupid ex-girlfriend was worrying about his stupid period cramps that his stupid body wasn't even supposed to be having anymore. But, well, she had brought him some codeine and normally he'd be wary of taking anyone else's medication but Bonnie was practically a doctor. She had variety of white lab coats and went to an honest-to-God laboratory all day and ok yes not the kind of doctor that gave out prescriptions but she knew what she was about when it came to medical stuff so-

Finn came to the conclusion that if he didn't open the door Jake might well kick it in anyway. He rolled out of his bed and shuffled across the messy room hunched in pain and humiliation with his duvet still wrapped around himself like a giant cocoon. When he slid back the bolt on the door Bonnie opened it from the other side and stuck her head into his room. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of old sweaty gym kit he hadn't gotten around to washing yet and generally inadequate hygiene.

"I should have brought air freshener, too." she muttered to herself. Finn wasn't sure if she was joking or just being her usual blunt self. He slouched back to the bed and let her wander around prodding his things, as was her usual habit.

"Codeine?" he prompted her quietly after a little while.

"Oh! Sorry. Yes, here." she handed him a packet of small white tablets.

"Can I have three?" he asked hopefully.

"No. That's more than the stated dosage and you know it."

"But it hurts so bad. Please?"

"...Ok fine, but no more than three and you're pushing your liver enough as it is. Alright? If you take three and collapse with hepatic toxicity then I want you to tell the paramedics I have no idea who you are or how you got hold of my meds." Bonnie replied with a heavy sigh and a smile that was more sad than anything else.

He'd already popped three of the pills out into his palm and she handed him a bottle of water with a long suffering sigh. Finn downed the tablets and tried to smile, although it probably came out more like a grimace of pain.

"Budge over, lumpy. I'm gonna be here a while so I might as well get comfortable." Bonnie muttered, shoving Finn gently in the shoulder. He huffed but moved over and let her sit on the end of his bed. They sat in awkward silence for a while, him curled onto his side under the duvet and her staring a little unfocusedly at the various lopsided football posters adorning the walls.

"Jake's worried about you. He made you hot chocolate." Bonnie told him quietly after a while.

"Yeah. Jake's an arsehole like that."

"He's just trying to help. And sugar and cocoa will increase the endorphins and other happy hormones in your brain. He's actually doing something that stands a chance of making you feel better."

"Imagine that, it must be by accident then." Finn replied with a scowl. Jake had been insufferable all day, he wouldn't just leave Finn alone with his misery.

Bonnie turned a genuinely annoyed expression on him and Finn had to resist the urge to hide further under the duvet. Nobody could glare disapprovingly like Bonnie; she could guilt him into just about anything.

"Finn Reuben Mertens, your big brother loves you and he's doing everything he can to help you! I know this is hard for you. And I can't even begin to imagine how awful having a period must be when you're a man, but that's no excuse to take it out on the people who are trying to take care of you."

"I know! Ok? I know that! I just feel like I'm literally dying and I hate everything right now and Jake keeps accidentally dead-naming me and he treats me like I'm a girl and sometimes I feel like I'm so angry and frustrated I can _feel_ my blood starting to boil, like-"

He was cut off by slim arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Finn shamefully shrugged out of the duvet and hugged her back. He let another couple of tears slide out onto Bonnie's shirt, certain she wouldn't care or mention it. She always gave the best hugs. The codeine must be kicking in extra fast he thought, because he was suddenly overcome with a wave of shameful emotion and nostalgia.

"I wish you weren't a lesbian." he whispered against her shoulder.

"I know, buddy. But this way is better. You get to keep me as a friend forever instead of having to end up hating me and everyone else I ever date. And you know I'm always gonna care about you, right? And I'll always be here for you. You're my absolute best friend in the world."

Finn nodded as much as he could without lifting his head. It made perfect sense rationally; it just still hurt a lot emotionally. Her logic was solid. It was the same thing he'd reasoned when he came out as trans. Nothing positive was ever going to come from staying in a relationship he wasn't comfortable with. Finn knew he'd never be able to feel completely happy in his identity if he was with someone who was exclusively attracted to women. Still their break up had been hard on him too no matter how shamefully it had come about and how much he hated himself for the pain he'd put her through. He missed her a lot more than he was willing to admit.

"Hey, Finn? I, uh, made some fresh hot chocolate for you." Jake said, peering worriedly at his little brother around the bedroom door.

"Thanks, Jake. I'm sorry I've been such an arsehole today. Just... I thought these bastards would stop once I got on testosterone. Turns out they can still go on for a while, sometimes." Finn muttered, shamefaced. He couldn't quite look his brother in the eyes. Even though Jake was trying really hard he still sometimes slipped up and called Finn the wrong name and every time he did it felt like he was forgetting that Finn existed. Like 'Finn' was just a fictional character that Jake's baby sister was playing at for a while. Finn knew he wasn't doing it on purpose but it triggered his dysphoria and made him feel awful especially when he was already feeling weird about his body. It made him feel like he wasn't real. Like he didn't really exist, he supposed.

But Jake just put the steaming mug down on his nightstand and sat on the other side of the bed. He squished Finn into the middle of a hug sandwich. The codeine was beginning to work on his physical symptoms too and although they hadn't really gone away the intense cramping pains felt distant, disconnected from him. Almost like they belonged to someone else altogether. That was true, though wasn't it? He was absolutely certain they didn't really belong to him. They belonged to some girl called Fionna who didn't even exist anymore. Maybe it was just the codeine talking though. He felt light headed and warm all over, like he was floating.

"I love you, bro." Jake murmured.

"Love you too, Jake."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for not updating in forever, I had a family emergency that is hopefully resolved now. And a birthday, which sucked, but that happens every year.**

 **A quick note on this chapter; I do not sign very fluently at all. So if there are any British signers out there and I've written something not quite right please let me know, because I am trying to learn to sign for professional reasons. Also Pasteurised Milk is a genuine sign language joke, it's pretty well known but I just love that there are cheesy Dad puns in sign language. Because it's the sign for 'milk' but going past-your-eyes, so it's 'Pasteurised Milk'. Language is awesome.**

 **Also if you don't know how La Vie En Rose sounds then I highly recommend You Tubing it because it's gorgeous, especially on ukulele.**

 **Content Warning: innuendo, social anxiety, accidental boob touching.**

* * *

 _hey not sure if you got my last message are you coming tonight itd be cool to see you guys x x x_

"Oh my God your phone is like, going mental over here. Are you just gonna ignore that or what?"

Bonnie didn't look around for a long minute. It was so much easier to pretend she hadn't heard Lydia or the insistent buzz of her phone on the coffee table and just focus on analysing her lab slides instead.

"I'm talking to you, dork face. Your phone is vibrating hard enough to break the table."

"...I know. I'm busy though and it's nobody important."

"Oh ok. I'll read it for you then."

"No! Lyds, don't-"

Too late, the curly haired girl had already swooped down and grabbed her phone from the tiny coffee table they'd crammed in front of their equally tiny sofa. She was scanning Bonnie's messages with a look of concentrated glee on her round face. Lyds held the phone close to her chest so there was no chance of its owner being able to reclaim it and Bonnie didn't even bother trying to get it back, there was no point now. Once Lydia had decided something was going to happen it did, whether Bonnie wanted it to or not. Lydia did at least know what she was doing with social situations. She probably thought she was being super helpful. Maybe she even was; Bonnie wasn't expert enough at dealing with other people to be able to tell.

"Ooh it's from your mysterious rich girl. Exciting! Ok, and …done." Lydia crowed after a moment. Bonnie heaved a long suffering sigh and let a couple of her photocopies slip into her lap from the thick sheaf of paper she was staring at, looking up pleadingly from behind her glasses.

"What's done? Lyds, what did you say to her?"

"Umm lemme see now... I said, 'Hey Marceline yeah sorry I've been out of touch been so busy nerding it up all week. I'd love to come for you tonight though just tell me when and where and I'll be there.' Then I added some kisses and a heart just in case she didn't catch my drift."

That made Bonnie forget about her slides at least. Her face burned with sudden embarrassment. Had Lydia really said that? But that sounded... Oh hell, that was definitely a dirty innuendo. It was very nearly crass.

"'Come for you tonight'? You actually said that? Oh God, Lyds! Please, just let it go! She's _straight_ and because of you and your dirty messages she's probably freaking out that I'm gonna creep all over her tonight! If she pepper sprays me it'll be your fault! Please, just stop trying to help me and let me die miserable and alone." Bonnie moaned it around the hands she'd hidden her suddenly brightly red face behind. Mortified didn't even begin to cover it.

"Well there's two ways to look at this, dork. Either she is actually straight in which case she's probably immune to lezzer flirting anyway and thinks you're just being super nice and a really good pal. Or she's secretly way into gorgeous naked women and is imagining what your sex blush looks like and the exact shade of pink your nipples are. She's probably having to change her panties _right now_. Either way you come off looking good. There is literally no way this could go wrong. I mean, unless she's straight and knows you're flirting and is grossed out by the very notion. But what are the chances of that?"

Bonnie didn't reply. She was too busy hiding her entire head under the cushions on their sofa and repressing the urge to kill Lydia. First Finn and his stupid interfering and now Lyds was flirting all over the place on her behalf. She should just give up having a phone, she thought. Or friends. Or going outside ever again.

"Seriously, stop freaking out. I'm good at this." Lydia sighed with an exaggerated eye roll. "You're just scared that she's actually into you and you might actually have a shot at getting laid. Finn and I don't usually agree on stuff and we both think that this chick is hot for you so that's pretty much undeniable proof."

Bonnie's phone buzzed a reply and she tried harder to stop existing. It didn't work.

"Are you gonna even look at this? No? Fine. Ok, your hot girl says... 'awesome see you there I'll text directions bring your friends too really looking forward to it kiss kiss heart heart'. Huh, she doesn't waste anyone's time with useless punctuation. That's my kinda girl."

Bonnie was saved the effort of replying by Jake's voice floating up from the hall. Lydia must have left the door unlocked again; Jake was terrible for just letting himself in without knocking.

"Hey, ladies! Your favourite boys are here! Oh, and Lady." he added sheepishly after a second. Bonnie felt certain Lady must've just punched him in the arm. Lydia let them into the lounge and from under her makeshift fortress of soft furnishing solitude Bonnie heard Jake ask, "Yo, what's up with Bon?"

"Oh just ignore her, she's being a total drama queen. Like, she's dying of embarrassment because I made her sext with that rich chick she's been mooning over all week." Lydia answered nonchalantly.

"I will cold blooded murder all of you with my bare hands, I swear to God." Bonnie muttered into her cushion, still hiding from them. Without warning someone pulled it away from her face and Bonnie glared up into the deep chestnut depths of Lady's concerned eyes.

"It is very rude not to greet your guests, Bonnibel." the tall girl admonished. "It is even ruder to threaten their lives. But, given that you live with Lydia and she's probably done something unforgivably awful yet again, I'll let you off with it this once."

"Right! Enough girly murder talk! Tonight, planning, are we going out or not?" Finn enthused, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning around at them all. He must be feeling better at least, Bonnie reasoned. Or he'd stolen more of her codeine.

"Apparently we're all getting dragged along to this delicious Marceline creature's show." Lydia replied, rolling her eyes theatrically. "Because Bonnie is too coward to go on her own and actually have it be, like, an actual date. Besides I want to check her out and see if she's really as thirsty for pale dork flesh as you said she was at the cafe, Finn."

Bonnie ignored the slur against her study habits with long practice and instead looked the energetic blonde boy up and down critically. Finn bounced harder and beamed around at them. Yeah, he wasn't acting anything like his sad and sulky self from the last few nights. Bonnie shot Jake a look he was more than capable of interpreting and he shook his head very minutely, making sure Finn couldn't see. So… he'd gotten hold of something stronger than codeine? Or his period had stopped already? Bonnie considered. Finn's pupils looked normal and he wasn't any more enthusiastic than his usual hyperactive self. She was gonna hedge on 'period stopped already'. That was good news, at least. It meant the testosterone was working and he wasn't in pain any more. She was glad for him.

"Is Susan gonna be joining us tonight?" she asked politely when Finn flung himself down next to her on the sofa. He nodded happily.

"Yep. And she's gonna stud it up and try to flirt with your girl! Because she's just a bastard like that. Besides she reckons there's not a woman alive who can resist Sue's sweaty charms, it'll be fun to test the theory."

"She's not my girl." Bonnie muttered darkly, blushing again and glaring at her ex. Finn beamed back at her.

"You want her to be. You want to kiss her all romantic and stuff and do cute couple things together and buy kittens with her and stare into her beautiful eyes and-"

"Shut up, you dink. Or you're not getting any pizza."

The way his eyes lit up was worth the extortionate amount she'd paid for takeout delivery. Not that she'd paid with her own money anyway. Bonnie had spent the last of the leftover cash from the cafe that Marceline had point blank refused to take back when they'd gone to dinner. She'd already ordered, knowing that Jake and Finn would be on their way over and probably hadn't thought about lunch. Bonnie was determined to share her financial good fortune with them no matter how briefly it lasted and besides eating pizza by herself was uncool even by her own dorky standards.

They spent the rest of the afternoon squished into Bonnie and Lydia's front room alternating between watching reruns of decades old sitcoms and watching Finn try to eat his own body weight in pizza.

...

"Are we not taking the Nerd Mobile?" Lydia asked slyly while Bonnie fiddled with the door lock.

"Why would we? It's only a station away and right next to the Tube. You know I don't like driving unless I have to."

Lydia just shrugged.

"Thought it might impress your _girlfriend_ to know you have a car." she replied.

"She's not my girlfriend, she's clearly very straight, and she's probably really rich so I doubt my crappy old Punto is going to impress her. And for the love of all things holy would you please stop calling it the Nerd Mobile?" Bonnie replied, stung. Lydia just rolled her eyes again.

They shuffled off down the street in a tight group, past plenty of other students heading out for a Saturday night in the most exciting city on earth. It was an unusually mild autumn evening and only just starting to get properly dark. The air was thick with the sounds of the nightlife warming up. There were sirens wailing off in the distance somewhere and a wide jumble of different snatches of music drifting down from the apartment blocks and terraced houses they walked past. The air hummed with a thousand different voices speaking a hundred different languages mingling together on every street in the district.

Bonnie usually disliked noise and crowds on principle but she'd always found that there was something magical in the way the city came alive in the evenings. Something about the way millions of different people all came outside to greet the night. She smiled to herself despite Lydia's earlier annoyances and the mounting social anxiety that going to a pub entailed. If it had just been a case of walking the darkening streets watching the huge variety of people hurry past she could have happily stayed there for hours.

All too soon they were at the underground station and Susan was hollering at them from across the road, dodging cyclists and the occasional taxi as she darted across to where they waited.

"Hey! You were supposed to call when you set off!" she yelled at Finn who winced and switched to rapid signing to reply. Susan's hearing aid was excellent but it had built in noise reduction and their ears didn't. When they were somewhere with a lot of background sound she didn't realise how loud she got when she spoke. Bonnie had never learned enough sign language to completely follow their conversation; she thought Finn was probably offering to buy Susan a drink to apologise for not calling though. The muscular girl nodded and pointed at the steps and they all trooped down together, caught in a press of people all trying to board the Central line at the same time.

"Where are we going?" Lady whispered to Bonnie while they waited on the tightly packed platform.

"Umm... The Fox and Hounds, Bethnal Green."

"That's not just one stop away! Bonnie!"

She just grinned sheepishly and shrugged at Lady's outrage. It wasn't all that far away really and they regularly went much further for a night out. Besides she hadn't really wanted to go anyway. She'd only agreed to be dragged along because she couldn't think of a good excuse not to go. Bonnie wanted to try to disprove Lydia and Finn's weird shared delusion that she was somehow interested in some beautiful mysterious girl who asked her to dinner and hugged her for just a couple of seconds too long and smelled like strawberries and-

She could feel her cheeks burning again. Luckily the train arrived a second later, before anyone could ask why she was standing quietly blushing to herself. Finn and Susan were still signing furiously to each other as they boarded in front of her and Bonnie was sure they were talking about her; she saw Susan sign her name repeatedly. Or at least, her sign language name which wasn't really the same thing as her spoken name. Sign names were a bit confusing for her still. She understood the principle that it took too damn long to sign every letter of someone's written name so signers usually came up with a nickname that could be flicked out quickly. But she wished Finn hadn't felt the need to name her Pink Sprinkles. It was apparently a very funny joke; Bonnie had thought she'd heard every pun about her surname that existed but no; Finn had come up with a new one. If he'd been stuck being a Sugar instead of a Mertens he'd probably be a bit more sympathetic, she thought sourly. Still it could be worse; Jake was forever going to be called Pasteurised Milk for mystifying reasons that Finn and Susan refused to divulge but which were apparently hilarious to people fluent in sign language.

They rode the Tube in silence except for Finn and Susan who conducted a rapid sign conversation for the whole journey. Finn always maintained that learning to sign was one of the best things he'd ever done. He could talk at the movies without it annoying other people, he could yell at Susan across a loud bar and insult most people right to their face without them knowing. The train was crowded and Bonnie was acutely aware that people were shooting Finn and Susan sidelong glances from the corners of their eyes, annoyed that they'd found a way around the unwritten 'no talking on the Tube' rule. She was relieved when the train pulled in at Bethnal Green station and she could get away from the large number of glaring commuters.

 _You boy bad._ Bonnie clumsily signed at Finn, making him laugh out loud.

"You mean 'you are the worst' or 'most bad.'" he corrected her, flicking his fingers forward to show her how to sign an approximation of worst instead of just bad. She shrugged and tried to copy his hand movements as they followed the small crowd up the steps and out onto the street. Tried hard to focus on learning the sign and not on how her stomach churned with sudden nerves now that they were almost at the venue.

...

"Big crowd out there," Mo stage whispered. He stuck his head as sneakily as possible around the door of the small store room Marceline had been given to use in lieu of a dressing room and gazed out at the noisy mob of assembled punks and bikers.

"Mo, it's a fairly small pub. There's room for maybe a hundred people, tops. That's not a big crowd." she told him gently. He just nodded and shot her a nervous smile. Kid was dying of stage fright on her behalf and he wasn't even performing; she choked back a snort of laughter because obviously Mo was taking it all terribly seriously.

"You ready to rock your roadie skills?" she asked him instead, trying to take his mind off his nerves. Mo grinned and held up a clipboard with his copy of the set list on it and a roll of silver tape. He wasn't entirely sure what the tape was for but he'd read somewhere that a real roadie wouldn't be caught dead without their trusted roll of tape. Mo was carrying it around in a death grip and glaring at anyone who looked like they might ask to borrow it. The rest of the band were already out setting up their instruments on the tiny makeshift stage and Marceline was just putting the finishing touches to her eye liner before she went and grabbed a cranberry juice from behind the small bar.

"I'm gonna check the set list is taped down properly." Mo announced proudly after a moment. She nodded as he left, unable to keep the soft smile from slanting across her face a little. Mo had just been a shy fourteen year old when he'd moved in downstairs and now he was in his last year of school. He was doing really well, really into music and video games and hopefully nearly over the awkward crush he'd had on her for a while. That had been weird for them both; Marceline saw Mo like a little brother and she'd already been nineteen when they'd met. Even two years later he was way too young for her. But lately he'd been full of enthusiasm about math, of all the bizarre things. It had transpired after some gentle probing that there was a girl in his algebra class whose smile was brighter than the moon, if Mo was to be believed. Marceline was glad for him. She hoped he could get over his clumsy teenage nerves and ask the girl out.

Marceline put down her eye liner and stared at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back, pale faced and sombre. She'd been playing in pubs since well before the age when she'd have been legal to drink in them if she'd ever wanted to, she wasn't usually nervous about performing. She was unaccountably jumpy tonight though. Maybe just a tiny bit anxious because she'd invited Bonnie and her gang along and she wasn't entirely sure what the redhead's intentions were; if they were hanging out as friends or… something else.

Going to dinner with cute girls was a whole new world of unknowns for Marceline. Until recently she'd been so busy making sure Simon stayed safe and fed that she hadn't had a moment to stop and think about hanging out casually with anyone. She'd never even considered that dating could be a thing that could happen to her except for the couple of occasions when Ash had needed her as a token girlfriend for various reasons and she'd agreed to go along for the sake of their decades old friendship. She was also trying hard not to feel guilty about Simon needing more care than she could give him. It had broken her heart to have to leave him and go home alone that first night. In the end she'd had to accept that he'd needed to be somewhere with twenty four hour security and specialist equipment; she'd found him wandering around the streets in the middle of the night in his pyjamas looking for Betty. Marcy had known then that no matter how much she wished he could stay at home with her she'd never forgive herself if something happened to him. Because sometimes she'd have to leave Simon alone and he might hurt himself without someone there.

She shook her head lightly to clear the memories then frowned at her own reflection. With her eyes so wide and innocent like that she looked entirely too much like her mother. The only real difference was the tattoos covering her shoulders and arms and that instead of inheriting her mysterious grandmother's Indian skin tone Marceline was several shades lighter. She looked more like she had a permanent deep suntan. Reluctantly she picked up the liner pencil and added much heavier lines and some extra wings tapering off from the corners of her eyes. Now she looked far too heavily made up, almost clownish, but that was preferable to anyone recognising her as her mother's daughter or the little girl from the papers. She nodded to her reflection; it would have to do for tonight. Distantly she wished she could wear something with long sleeves but even under the small stage lights of the Fox and Hounds she knew she'd be way too hot too quickly. It would absolutely have to be the slim grey vest or she'd risk fainting or freaking out under the lights. Marceline didn't deal well with overheating, just the thought of it made her panicky.

Stepping out of the small back room and nodding to the loitering crowd she pushed her way towards the bar only to trip on some idiot's badly placed foot and go flying through the air. She landed almost face first on-

Oh, on Bonnie, as it turned out.

And, _argh no_ , she'd landed hand first too. Almost right on the danger zones of the other girl's chest just like they were in some cheesy romantic comedy. Marceline whipped her hands away as quickly as possible, flushing beetroot red under her make up and stuttering a garbled apology at the same moment Bonnie started talking entirely too fast.

"OhgodI'msorry I didn't see you there-"

"-no it's my fault I'm in your way also hi and I brought some people and-"

"-let me get you a drink to apologise, so sorry again-"

"Hi! You must be Marceline! Oh my god your makeup is awesome! I can never pull off that kinda look, I'm so jealous! We've heard so much about you, like, it's totally cool to meet you at last."

At the same moment as the enthusiastic voice interrupted them Marcy's vision was filled with a mass of tight brown curls and a smiling face coated in entirely too much purple eye shadow. A small heavily curved girl in a matching tight purple dress and ankle boots had elbowed Bonnie out of the way and commandeered Marceline's hand. She was shaking it vigorously and loudly introducing herself. Right, Lydia. Bonnie had mentioned her; the annoying roommate who wanted to be a famous fashion critic.

Jake, Finn and Susan were there too along with an extremely pretty Asian girl that Marceline didn't recognise. Jake introduced her as his long term girlfriend, Lady. Marceline murmured greetings to them all and bought a round of drinks for them, watching the way Bonnie sucked the cherry off her cocktail stick in open fascination. It seemed the redhead was completely oblivious to how borderline obscene it looked to anyone watching. When Finn helpfully pointed it out Bonnie's fierce blush was equally fascinating and thoroughly adorable. Marcy would have waved Mo over to come meet them too but when she looked up to see where he'd gotten to he was staring around worriedly from the platform. Obviously he thought she'd bailed and with a guilty glance down at her watch Marceline realised she was supposed to be on stage already.

"Listen guys, I gotta go, y'know, perform. See you later?"

They nodded and she pushed her way back to the stage through the restless crowd. She grabbed the heavy red bass guitar a relieved looking Mo handed her then remembered what she'd had planned for tonight and passed it back to him with a small shake of her head.

"Nah, fetch the ukulele instead." she muttered to him. Mo nodded and grabbed it from behind the drum kit while she flicked the microphone on and grinned out at the crowd. Her heart soared; this was what Marceline lived for. When she was on the stage with an audience before her she felt so light, like she was flying. And there was Bonnie and her friends at the back of the room. She shot an extra smile their way and felt her heart begin to soar with anticipation.

"Good evening, Bethnal Green! You guys came here for a night of hardcore punk, and that's what you're gonna get. But first I'd like to do something completely different! Prepare to get your feels on."

The small crowd were gaping at her like a group of leather jacketed fish when Mo handed her the ukulele but Marceline couldn't have cared less. She'd been practicing for ages and she really wanted to play her song. She began to strum the chords, slowly with closed eyes, feeling the music flow through her fingers as well as hearing it. Despite the completely unexpected genre she was playing the crowd watched in transfixed silence.

Finn whispered something dirty about Marceline having accidentally gotten to second base already in Bonnie's ear but she didn't really hear him or bother replying. Like almost everyone else in the room she was staring at the dark haired girl in the spotlight, mesmerised by her silky voice and enigmatic soft smile.

 _"Hold me close and hold me fast,_

 _This magic spell you cast_

 _This is La Vie En Rose."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies to Muslim readers if I have misunderstood the concept of _dhanb,_ I did a lot of research for this chapter and I hope I haven't offended anyone but please correct me if I've described it wrong. Fair warning, there's a Cinnamon Bun cameo in this chapter too. Because I love him too much not to include him. **

**Also Realism Time, while the Fox and Hounds doesn't exist on Bethnal Green anymore there is a genetics research unit on the back of the Royal London Hospital and undergrads can get solo lab time for extra credit projects. I don't live in London anymore but I know it well. The experiment Bonnie is doing in this chapter is a genuine proof of method experiment that I have done when I was studying genetics before Life Events happened and destroyed my (admittedly feeble) university career. So the genetic science in this fic is genuine, to the best of my knowledge. Science is amazing.**

 **Content Warning: mild homophobia and sex metaphors, scientific language, medical emergencies of that kind that might be triggering if something similar has happened to a loved one.**

* * *

"Marcy? Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"Which girl?"

"At the show tonight. That ginger girl in the flannel shirt and the pink hat. I did not get chance to come over and introduce myself because Bongo needed help to load the drum kit but you were laughing with her a lot. I thought I had met all of your friends. Who was she?"

Well playing dumb clearly hadn't worked. Marceline tried to stall for time, casting around to think of a diversion. But Mo was still gazing at her intently with ever so slightly narrowed eyes as they strolled along the dark streets together on their way home. She sighed and considered how much to tell him, how to even articulate a lot of stuff that was still just a vague nebulous feeling for her. She hadn't even tried to put it into words for herself yet. It was difficult to describe it for Mo when she wasn't completely certain how she felt so far.

"Her name's Bonnie and I met her at the V&A the week before last. We're... I guess we're hanging out together. Perhaps we're friends. We went to dinner through the week and it's been really nice to get to know her, she's really intelligent and kinda shy. It's fun to hang out with someone who isn't a punk for once and talk about different stuff, you know? The taller blonde dude who was with her is called Jake and he's the guy who designed my favourite red boots. Kinda cool that we bumped into each other by chance like that." Marcy replied, eyes straight ahead and definitely not watching the lingering jealousy on her younger friend's face. So Mo was still crushing on her a little and that was an awkward discovery. She didn't quite know how to act if he was going to make things weird.

"Oh. Ok I guess. It makes sense that you would want to meet new people now that you have more time. Wait, that guy designs shoes? So ew, he is a gay? But he looks so normal." Mo said, wrinkling his nose a little. Marceline tried hard to hope it wasn't an opinion he held too deeply. She wasn't about to just sit back and let him be homophobic about people she wanted to get to know better.

"Nope, that Korean girl they were there with is his girlfriend. Jake's straight, he just... he likes designing shoes. Said it was the best way to meet women, he's about as straight as they come."

 _Leave it leave it leave it lea-_

"And what would it matter if he was gay anyway?" she asked him in a loud rush, against her better judgement.

 _You're an idiot, Petrikova. Why couldn't you just leave it?_

Mo didn't say anything for a while, just kept walking and staring at the traffic rumbling past with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"I dunno. I suppose it doesn't, not really. Not like… I do not mean it like, religiously or anything. That stuff matters to my Dad but I do not know if I really believe it too much. I mean, being a homosexual is _dhanb_ , like a really bad sin, but so is so much other stuff. Like, literally you cannot even exist for a second without fault if you are going to follow the letter of everything in the Qua'ran. But gays are just a bit gross, aren't they?"

"No, I don't think they are. It's just love. And it might be different to how you love but it isn't any less real or special for the people who feel it, to them it's just... love." she replied carefully, trying to keep the heat out of her voice.

"My Dad says what homosexuals do to each other is sick." Mo added with a casual shrug, like that was the end of the matter.

"Dads can be wrong about stuff." she replied with a sour frown, rubbing the side of her neck uncomfortably. "Just because a man can get someone pregnant doesn't mean he's suddenly got any magical insight into what's right and what's wrong, trust me on that. It's just your Dad's opinion and opinions can be wrong."

Mo frowned but he nodded, she was glad that had made sense to him. His father was an old fashioned man and he didn't really approve of Mo hanging out with Marceline so much. But Mo's mother was a force to be reckoned with when she supported someone and she was deeply grateful to Marceline for helping Mo do well at school and settle into their new neighbourhood when they moved in. She didn't care one bit that Marcy was mixed race, covered in tattoos or kept some eccentric and reclusive habits. It was good to feel so accepted. Marcy often thought that Mrs al-Ahmad and her own Mum would have gotten on really well if they'd met; they were both deeply nurturing and caring and the older woman had a comfortingly motherly air about her.

Mo's voice brought her wandering thoughts back to the present with a jolt.

"Marcy..." -oh that tone was trying far too hard to be casual, _crap. S_ he was certain he was about to ask her something really uncomfortable- "...have you ever um… done… you know?"

"No, I don't know. Look! The number forty three bus service is still running, and it's past eleven at night! It's supposed to finish at half ten, there must be a delay at the depot!" She stalled for time, knowing perfectly well what he was trying to ask but desperate to give him every opportunity to think better of it. It was a pretty crappy diversion but it was all she could think of on the spur of the moment.

"Yeah, that is weird. Anyway, um, I wanted to know if you had ever had-"

"OH AND LOOK SHASLIK'S IS OPEN LET'S GO GET SOME CHICKEN KEBABS!" she shouted over him. Hastily she pointed at the grubby takeaway on the corner of the main street and realised a fraction of a second too late that she was _vegan_ and that was probably the stupidest distraction she could ha-

"Have you ever had sex with anyone?" Mo blurted out almost as loudly.

If the number forty three bus had been just a bit slower and still rolling past their section of the road Marceline would have gladly thrown herself underneath it. Anything to keep from having to answer that loaded question in the middle of a crowded street. The pavement was still thick with people moving from one bar to another or making their way home after the gig and a large group of students ahead of them had turned around to leer at her and grin. Marceline wished she could somehow turn invisible and avoid the sleazy way they were smirking at her. She tried ignoring Mo too but he just kept on watching her from the corner of his eye. His face was flushed with embarrassment but apparently he was determined to get an answer to his inappropriate question. Eventually she sighed and ran a frustrated hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little in an unconscious gesture of annoyance.

"Why does it matter to you, Mo? Why would you ever think I'd want to talk about that with you? You're like a little brother to me. I don't want to discuss the existence or otherwise of my sex life with you; it's weird for me to talk about it with anyone. Especially you, because you're like family to me. Is that not ok?" she eventually replied, almost too quietly for him to hear over the traffic and general Saturday night background noise.

Mo scuffed his trainers along the pavement for a moment, hands shoved deeply into his pockets and a heavy blush staining his usual dark complexion an almost purple colour. He opened his mouth several times to reply but closed it without uttering a word.

"I was just curious." he muttered, eventually. "Cause you know tons about loads of stuff and you do not think gays are gross like most people. I just wondered because you used to have that weird boyfriend but you never talk about boys or about anyone really. And then that girl you were talking to tonight looked really queer in her hat and... I just wondered how you knew that the ways gay people have sex together aren't really gross."

"Mo, I was talking about _love_ , the general concept. Not just sex. And you don't have to have experienced something to know it isn't gross, right? Like, you've never ridden a horse but you know there's nothing innately gross about it, just that it's not something you've ever done. Yeah? Maybe you can even see why someone else would enjoy it. Perhaps you just don't understand what the fuss is about horses, or you always secretly wanted to ride a horse but you never had the chance yet. Or horses make you feel weird in general and you'd rather not think about riding one. There are lots of possibilities; do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Marceline replied carefully.

"Then… have you ever ridden a horse?"

Well at least he'd followed her metaphor. She considered; trying to find a way to move the conversation on without giving him too much information.

"I've... horse riding isn't really something I've ever had time to think about much. I've always been too busy looking after my sick uncle, trying to get my life back to some kind of normal level after stuff went bad with my family when I was younger. Until Simon went to Whitehills I was too busy to even think about horses or riding or anything really. You understand what I'm saying?"

Mo nodded, finally quiet. So talking about her tragic childhood had shut him up about sex; at least she knew what worked now. She filed it away for future reference in case he decided to ask some more really uncomfortable personal questions in the future. She'd need a diversion that was better than the local bus service or which takeaway was open.

"So you have never, um, ridden a horse then?" Mo pushed after a minute. So much for her diversion. They were coming up to their apartment block and Marceline was longing to just shut the door and lock everyone out, lie down in her dark bedroom and enjoy just being alone and quiet.

"I- No, B-Mo. No horse riding. But I've often thought it might be nice, maybe, if I met the right... horse."

"But is the right horse a boy or a girl?"

"Probably one of those, yes."

"But which-"

" _Goodnight_ , Baseem Mohammed." she told him firmly, propelling him towards his own front door and hurrying up the stairwell to her apartment.

...

 _i booked ramiros for 8 tonight so dont even think about staying late at the lab theyre trying a new recipe for vegan fajitas x x x_

 _Thanks, that sounds great! See you at 8 xxx_

It was lovely, in a really panicky weird way, that Marceline just booked things without needing to ask her if she was free or if she wanted to go to dinner or if they were dating or friends or… Anyway, it was nice that a pretty girl wanted to spend time with her and understood enough about her social anxiety to arrange it without adding the triggering complication of getting her opinion first. She was very used to being told she was the most indecisive person any of her friends had ever met. Bonnie smiled self-consciously as she slid her phone back into her pocket and grabbed a fresh pair of lab gloves. This time she'd even managed to accept an invitation to dinner without having to get Finn or Lydia to text back on her behalf.

She found she was humming happily to herself; that song with the French name that Marceline had sang in the pub at the weekend. It was catchy and really pretty, she didn't remember all the words but she knew it was something romantic about love songs and stuff. Despite still being very convinced the other girl was straight Bonnie found she couldn't completely stop herself from fantasizing about running her hands through Marcy's hair and kissing her softly every time she remembered that song.

"You're in a good mood today, Dr Sugar."

The voice from behind her made her jump; she hadn't realised Clive was there.

"Not a doctor, yet." she replied by habit. She smiled nervously at the big round faced man and repressed a fresh wave of panic that he might have noticed how she'd been staring dreamily down at her petri dish. Clive wheeled his cleaning cart to the front of the lab with a friendly smile and started loading the full sharps bins onto the bottom of the cart, replacing them with empty ones.

Clive Barton, or CB to his many friends, had been cleaning the university labs for as long as anyone could remember. He might not be the most intellectual member of staff but he was certainly one of the most cheerful and most genuine. CB had mild learning difficulties, he lived in sheltered housing with daily carers but he never let anything hold him back and he adored working for the university. He probably would have come in every day as a volunteer if they'd told him they couldn't pay him anymore. CB barely even realised that unpleasant people existed, he was always so happy that other people's moods just slid right off him like water from a duck's back. His was a world filled with genuine wonder and delight. He thought the genetics labs were borderline magical and anyone who wore a white coat was automatically a doctor. So long as he had a tune to whistle and a task to complete he was happy. Bonnie thought CB might be the happiest person she'd ever met. It always cheered her up when he visited her lab no matter how down she'd been feeling and she was genuinely fond of the big man.

"Whatcha working on today, doc?" he asked in a voice full of fascination. CB wandered up to her elbow and peered curiously into the petri dishes she was plating up with bacterial cultures, gazing down in amazement at them like they were the crown jewels.

"Still not a doctor, CB. And I'm growing some samples to see if any of the bacteria I modified have gotten the right gene insert. If they do then the colonies will grow green instead of white and I'll know I've successfully inserted the human insulin gene into a viable bacterial host along with the green protein marker gene. It's just a proof of method for another project but I wanted to try it out with a gene insert that we know works for this kind of bacteria before I try transfecting the cells with anything else. See here? I'm making streaks of the cell culture on this dish full of a special growth nutrient. Then I'll put it in the incubator to see what colour the colonies grow." Bonnie replied happily. CB wouldn't understand but it was just so nice that someone was asking about her work and he loved to hear all about it even if she may as well have been speaking Mandarin to him.

"So… they'll go green?" he asked in confusion. "Like a cabbage?"

"Sort of the same colour as cabbage, yes. But it'll be green for different reasons."

"Well doc, you know you can get purple cabbages too."

"Thanks Clive, I'll remember that."

He smiled widely to her, proud he'd been able to contribute, and wandered away whistling cheerfully. Bonnie hid a warm smile behind her hand, careful not to let her blue latex glove touch her face and risk wiping insulin transfected _E. coli_ onto her skin. Just because it was a lab strain didn't mean she wanted to risk getting a nasty infection from it. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost five and she still had to get across town in the rush hour crush and get changed; she'd better clear up and head off soon.

By the time she was swinging the door of the building shut and shouldering her bag it was already past five thirty and Bonnie was starting to have her usual panic over the possibility of being late. Her anxiety ramped up an extra couple of notches when her phone began to buzz insistently in her pocket with an incoming call. Almost everyone in Bonnie's life knew not to call her, knew about her mild phobia of speaking on the phone. If there was something someone had to tell her that wasn't easy to put into a text message then it had almost always been bad news in her experience. Phone calls were automatically scary. Her heart thudded in double time when she saw the screen light up with Marceline's name, hastily fixed after Finn had put her number into her phone as 'Hot Rich Chick' that day in the library.

"Hello?" she asked nervously, answering the call with slightly shaky hands.

"Bonnie? Hey. Can we cancel for tonight? I've got a kinda... family emergency. My uncle's in hospital, they think he's had a h-heart attack and I- I- oh God I'm sorry, just- I- I-"

The line dissolved into distressed noises and repressed sobs. If there was one thing Bonnie knew about far too well it was how horrible an unexpected meltdown in public felt.

"Hey, it's ok, it's gonna be alright. Where are you?" she asked as calmly as she could manage.

"The R-Royal London Hospital." Marceline hiccoughed in reply.

"Wait there, I'm at the lab and it's literally five minutes around the corner."

"No, you don't have to... I c-can manage..."

Bonnie shook her head and then remembered the other girl couldn't see her.

"Wait at the main reception for me, I'll be like, five minutes at most." she repeated gently.

"I... yeah, ok. Thank you."

...

The main hospital waiting room was crowded and noisy and Marceline didn't see Bonnie until the other girl was almost on top of her, though in truth she hadn't really been looking for her. Too busy trying to hold back her tears and not give in to her anxious habit of biting the skin around her fingernails; she couldn't play bass if her fingers were sore and painful. She knew, distantly, that she was in shock and probably shouldn't be alone for a while. So it was a mix of crushing relief and an unexpected blossom of overwhelming affection that made her throw her arms around the surprised redhead. Marceline pulled her into a much closer hug than they'd previously shared when she noticed Bonnie standing by her shoulder and gazing at her worriedly.

"Thank you for coming down here." she mumbled against the other girl's hair, suddenly terribly embarrassed by the tear tracks staining her cheeks.

"I was just around the corner. Literally; the lab I'm working in is almost on the back of this building." Bonnie replied with a light blush. "How's your uncle? Is he... still hanging on? He's gonna recover?"

Marceline still hadn't let go of her and Bonnie felt her arms tense around her shoulders at the question. Maybe that had been a little tactless; Bonnie wasn't always great at navigating social situations. But Marceline had already known that. She'd even said herself that night in the pub that she thought it was adorable how awkward the other girl could be. Bonnie cringed, hoping she wasn't re-evaluating that opinion now.

"He's recovering from emergency surgery; they put some sort of medical thingy into his heart." Marceline muttered in a brittle voice. Bonnie nodded, unsure if she should maybe step back but guiltily unwilling to let go just yet because it was selfish and wonderful to have an excuse to wind her arms around Marceline's waist and pull her in for a hug.

"That's probably a stent. It's like a sort of surgical tube they put into the arteries of the heart to help them stay open and keep the blood flowing." she explained as gently as possible. "If they're giving him a stent then they must think he's got a good chance." she added.

Marceline did pull back then, but she didn't completely unwind her arms from around the other girl's shoulders. She just rested her hands on the top of Bonnie's back and offered her a brief watery smile although it didn't really reach her eyes.

"Thank you for coming down here." she said again, looking away to hide her obvious embarrassment at being caught in such an emotional state. "I didn't know who else to call. I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn I don't have a ton of close friends and they're mostly the kind of people I just hang out and play music with from time to time. Or my stupid ex or the sweet kid who lives downstairs and crushes on me who I guess is probably one of my closest friends, actually. None of them are really much good in a crisis."

It was hard to know what to say to that. Bonnie just nodded and offered her what she hoped was a reassuring smile in return.

"You're probably the only person in the entire country who thinks I'm any good in a crisis. I just don't like seeing anyone upset. And you don't need to thank me for coming over here, like I said I was around the corner and I'm your friend. Of course I'll be there for you when you need someone." she replied as steadily as possible after a few moments.

"You're my friend?" Marceline asked with a small unreadable smile, something that was possibly teasing and possibly genuine confusion. Bonnie wasn't sure what she was hinting at; had she misread the situation? Were they not friends, after all? They'd hung out a lot since they met, went to dinner, had been texting each other almost every day since she'd gone to the gig that night. Marceline had even introduced her to the other members of her band the weekend previously. That was what friends did, right? She was certain of it.

"Did I read it wrong? Am I not your friend?" Bonnie asked quietly. Marceline snorted like she'd said something funny but Bonnie didn't get the joke. She stared at the other girl, suddenly worried that she'd said something inappropriate.

"I invited you to dinner at my favourite restaurant. And out to lunch the same day I met you. I gave you my card and waited for you to call because I wanted to get to know you better. You came to my show; you're the first person I thought to call in an emergency." Marceline replied after a second of unreadable silence, like that should somehow make it all perfectly clear.

Her red rimmed eyes flickered back up to meet Bonnie's and she abruptly realised that they were actually standing really quite close together. Much closer than she'd ever stood with any of her other friends like Jake or Lydia, closer than could really be counted as platonic if she wanted to look at it that way. For no reason she could think of Bonnie's heart was suddenly racing, fluttering behind her ribcage like a trapped bird trying to escape. It was probably a totally inappropriate situation to want to sway forwards into those beautifully inked arms and press her lips against the other girl's but Bonnie was finding it increasingly difficult to think about anything else. Marceline's lips looked so soft, they were full and round and looked so wonderfully kissable. Was the distance between their faces getting smaller? Was Marceline tilting her head just a little, so their noses wouldn't bump? She was almost certain the other girl's hands were putting just a little encouraging pressure on her back, urging her closer inch by inch-

And then some ever so helpful doctor was saying Marceline's name, tapping her on the shoulder. She whipped around at the voice and the moment was lost. If it had ever been there to start with; Bonnie wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined the whole thing just because she wanted it to happen so badly. She took a steadying breath and tried to shove the unreasonable pulse of disappointment down and away. She must have been imagining it because she was certain the other girl was straight, was absolutely not interested in her.

"Miss Petrikova? Your uncle's stable and he's coming round from the anaesthetic now, you can go in and see him if you want to."

She stepped back, away from Bonnie and that dangerous confusing moment. Marceline followed the doctor with the panic and apprehension suddenly back on her face where there had been implacable tenderness a moment before.


	6. Chapter 6

**I meant to post this yesterday, I apologise for not doing so. Massive love and hugs to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited so far, genuinely when I get an alert email letting me know someone likes what I write it makes my day. You are all so wonderful and I love you guys so much.**

 **Only four days til Christmas. Want a challenge fic as a present? Ask! I'll write it asap.**

 **Content Warning: From this chapter onward it's going to get increasingly dark. Like, however dark you're thinking? Probably darker. So for this chapter trigger warnings for medical language (some people genuinely find that triggering, I'm not being sarcastic), discussions of domestic violence, violent homophobia, historical character death.**

* * *

"Hey Simon, it's Marcy. How are you feeling? Can you hear me? I'm here, anyway. I brought a friend with me, her name's Bonnie."

Marceline was used to Simon mostly ignoring her when she spoke these days so it was the best kind of surprise when he turned his head towards her and focussed bleary eyes on her face.

"Marcy?" he repeated, confused.

"That's right, Uncle Simon. I'm Marcy, your niece."

"I know you."

"Yeah, I come see you all the time. I bring you cheesecake. Do you remember?"

He nodded, still seeming confused but with a little more certainty in his pale eyes than she'd been accustomed to seeing in recent weeks.

"My niece. Marceline. You're Hunson's girl."

She flinched; of all the things he could have remembered about her it had to be her father.

"You're so big now." Simon continued, staring at her critically. "You look so much like your mother when she was your age. How old are you now?"

"I'm twenty one, Simon. Almost twenty two. I've got my birthday at the end of next month."

He nodded carefully, as though that made any kind of sense to him at all. Marceline took his hand and sank weakly into the cheap plastic chair by his bed. It had been so long since Simon had had a good day and really remembered her. She didn't want to waste one precious second of it even if it meant he wanted to talk about her father.

"I took you to the funfair when you were little." Simon said suddenly, smiling in a way she'd almost forgotten. "We went on the Ferris wheel, you and me and your Mum. I won you a teddy bear on the crane machine. Do you remember?"

Marceline almost laughed and nearly sobbed; there was something heartbreakingly ironic in him asking her if she remembered.

"Yeah, it was the best birthday ever! I still have the teddy bear, he's still my best friend." she told him, eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

Simon nodded again and closed his eyes, resting his snowy head back against the pillows. He winced a little and Marcy leaned forwards worriedly to watch his pale face intently for any trace of pain.

"My chest is sore." he told her quietly after a while.

"Yeah, you had to have surgery. They had to put a tube into your heart, Uncle Simon. To help the blood flow properly."

"Oh. I… that must be why it hurts. I'm ill, aren't I? Is Betty coming to see me?"

Her heart fell; he'd been doing so well. Marceline hesitated, wondering if she should explain to him yet again that his wife had died a long time ago. In the end she couldn't bring herself to watch his heart break all over again. She took the coward's approach instead.

"Not today, Uncle Simon. Betty can't come today" she replied quietly.

"Are you the nurse?" he asked with a confused frown, looking at Bonnie who was hovering nervously in the corner unsure what to do now that she wasn't needed to offer comfort.

"Me? No, I'm Marceline's friend."

"Oh. Her... friend?"

"That's right. I was really upset when I found out you were ill and you'd been taken to hospital and Bonnie came to keep me company while I was waiting to see you." Marceline soothed. She squeezed Simon's scarred hand carefully and smiled at the way he looked around at her voice. It was a painful kind of wonderful when he had good days. She knew it wouldn't last long but it was the highlight of her year when Simon looked into her face and actually saw her.

"Hey, do you want me to get you a coffee?" Bonnie asked her quietly after a minute. Marceline nodded, distantly relieved to discover that the redhead could do subtlety after all.

"Yeah, thanks. That'd be great. Think they can make it with soy milk in the canteen here?"

"I'll go and find out. Might take me a while, don't go anywhere."

Bonnie squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and let herself out of the room with a quiet goodbye. Marceline was fairly sure she wouldn't be back for a while; seemed like she could recognise when someone needed some time alone. Perhaps it was a skill she'd developed when dealing with Finn's transition, Marceline reasoned. The slight blonde boy seemed like the kind of person who needed to just have his space for a while sometimes. The door slid shut with a click and she turned back to Simon, all thoughts of Finn forgotten. She wanted to fling herself on her uncle and hug him tightly, cry on his shoulder and tell him how much she missed him. But the mass of bandages and dressings on his chest were enough to keep her in her chair. Instead she clung onto his gnarled hand just like she had on her seventh birthday at the fairground.

"Don't let him know." Simon warned her in what she recognised as his rarely used serious voice. Marceline stared at him; his eyes were open again and he was watching her face with a pensive expression.

"Don't let who know what?"

"Your father. Don't let him know about your girlfriend, he would react very badly indeed. He does not accept that kind of lifestyle and he already has ideas about what your future will be."

"She's not my girlfriend." Marcy muttered, looking down at their hands. Simon was looking at her more clearly than he had in a long time and his speech was more direct, more awake than he usually sounded. If she let herself pretend it was almost like he wasn't ill.

"But you want her to be. It's written all over your face, Marceline. Please, do not let Hunson know. He's... he hurts your mother, hits her when he gets angry. Please don't let him do that to you or your girl. Don't give him any more reasons to hurt you."

"I know what he did to Mum. I saw it often enough and I wasn't planning on letting that bastard know anything about me ever again. He's not part of my life anymore; I haven't seen him since I was a kid. You saved me from him, don't you remember?"

Simon nodded seriously and squeezed her hand. After a moment he continued, a little gruffly.

"I just want the best for you. Me and Betty both do. So, as long as that girl treats you well and makes you happy then you'll always have our blessing, we'll help you hide it from Hunson. And it's always good to have a nurse in the family."

Marceline just smiled warmly and ran her thumb over the deep bubbling scars that ran from the back of Simon's hands all the way up his arms to his biceps, as familiar to her as every single line and curve of her own skin. It was more effort than it was worth to explain that Bonnie wasn't a nurse, or her girlfriend. And it was unexpectedly wonderful not to have to go through a traumatic coming out to Simon. Ironic that the day he was taken so seriously ill was such a good day for his memory that he knew who she was and could still read her moods, at least for a little while. Perhaps they should have talked about other stuff and she did consider changing the subject but it made her weirdly happy to hear her uncle validate a part of her identity that was usually ignored by everyone, especially herself. She'd never even thought about it much, hadn't had the time or head space to process it. And somewhere deep down she'd been too afraid to face it head on because she remembered more of her father than just the way he'd slap her mother around. Marceline remembered his attitudes too.

"I always knew Marcy was different." Simon continued, closing his eyes again. "I knew ever since she was a little girl, I think her mother did too. Claudia hid it as best she could from Hunson because he was always unreasonable homophobic and she just wanted her little daughter to be happy. She was such a tomboy! Always climbing trees and getting muddy and scraping up her knees. Such a charmer too! She could light up a whole room with her smile. My sweet little girl. I want her to know that there's nothing wrong with her. She's perfect just the way that she is. Don't let her hear any of that Old Moscow Family crap that tells her otherwise. Tell her we love her no matter who she is."

She nodded, unexpectedly tearful at his abrupt acceptance.

"Dad used to say that homosexuals were paedophiles, perverts, the worst kind of filth. That they should be lined up and shot, 'fixed' somehow. That was the worst. I didn't understand when I was little but I think I know what he meant by that now and it terrifies me. Do you think I'm a pervert, Uncle Simon?" Marceline whispered after a moment, knowing what he'd say but needing to hear it anyway. Because when she took the time to really think about it there were some pretty massive emotional wounds that Hunson's violently homophobic attitudes had left on her that she'd never really examined or attempted to heal. She'd never wanted to accept they would apply to her.

"You? No. I think you're just like everyone else, darling. Just as wonderful and just as perfectly human no matter who you love." he replied gently. "Make sure Marcy knows that, too."

"I'll tell her." Marceline replied roughly in a voice half choked with some thick emotion she didn't want to try to name in case it turned out to be too hard to deal with on top of everything else.

"Do you mind if I sleep? I'm getting tired."

She nodded again and pressed a careful kiss to his whiskery cheek. She wasn't certain he even knew who she was right now. He'd been talking about her in the third person so perhaps he thought she was his sister or some other family member.

"Sleep well and feel better soon. Love you, Simon."

"I'll try. Love you too, Marcy."

No, she was wrong. It seemed that he knew exactly who he was talking to after all. His eyes slid closed and after a few minutes his breathing slowed and deepened in sleep. It might be months before he was so lucid again, or it might never happen at all. There was no way to know. Marceline waited until Simon was snoring deeply to let her tears fall again. Her heart beat heavily with a nameless emotion; head swirled with things she'd left repressed and unexamined for too long and so much bittersweet love for the man who'd raised her.

...

There was a small pack of photographers and assorted press hanging around the main accident and emergency waiting rooms. Bonnie wondered briefly which celebrity had turned up at the hospital but she realised she didn't actually care. She just continued on her quest to find a canteen on any floor that would make a vegan coffee for Marceline. It was obvious her uncle had some kind of memory loss problems, most likely vascular dementia if he also had heart problems. Bonnie hadn't completely followed the conversation between Marceline and her uncle but from what she'd understood he often forgot who she was and needed to be reminded. Marceline was obviously very close to him. Nobody else had arrived and she'd not mentioned contacting anymore, so maybe he was the only family she had? She'd flinched back when Simon had mentioned her father; Bonnie got the feeling there was probably a story behind that. And as socially awkward as she was she knew better than to ask about it right then.

As she walked she considered how terrible it must be not to have any family. Her own mother lived not too far from her little apartment in Leyton and they saw each other most weeks, their houses were within walking distance of each other. She hadn't seen her Dad or his new wife in quite a while but she supposed she'd probably miss them if anything happened to them. Bonnie knew on an intellectual level that one day she'd be walking into a hospital morgue to say goodbye to her parents but she hoped it wasn't for a long time to come. She couldn't even begin to imagine how alone Marceline must have felt if she'd lost her entire family so young.

She finally found the main hospital canteen and plucked up all her courage to ask the harassed looking waitress wiping down tables if they had soy milk. The woman looked at her like she'd grown an extra head which Bonnie took to mean 'no'.

"We got whole, semi or skimmed." the waitress told her, perplexed.

"No, I need vegan milk." Bonnie replied distractedly. She was half watching the small press of photographers that were setting up in the corner of the room. Obviously they expected Mystery Celebrity to appear there sooner or later. One of them had even excitedly taken a snap of Bonnie scratching her head and frowning into the cold drinks cabinet. She frowned harder and glared at the man who shot her a cheeky wink and went back to staring at the main doors.

In the end Bonnie just grabbed a carton of apple juice and a couple of slightly over ripe bananas along with a flapjack for herself. She didn't know if Marceline had eaten or if there was even any food in the canteen that was definitely vegan other than fruit. She grabbed a chair in an out of the way corner and sat, slowly nibbling on the flapjack while she texted Lady.

 _So I'm at the hospital with Marceline, we were gonna got to dinner again but then her uncle got rushed in with a heart attack. So… can I ask your opinion about something? x_

She wasn't waiting long before she got a reply.

 _Oooh hot date! Go for it, I'm not as good as Lydia but I can try_

Bonnie considered. Maybe she was just reading too much into it. But she was certain, a bit, about seventy percent certain at least.

 _We were hugging and she sort of pulled me a bit closer and I think she might have been about to make a move on me but we got interrupted by a doctor. Do you think she's interested? I dunno, I asked her if we were friends and she just laughed and reminded me we went to dinner? I was certain she was straight but now I don't know. Maybe I just really want to kiss her so I'm projecting? Why are women such hard work!? x_

Lady replied after all of about thirty seconds.

 _YESSSSS you dork, kiss her she's totally hot for you! OMG this is way exciting I KNEW she liked you!_

Bonnie frowned. That wasn't how Lady texted at all, that was more like-

 _Lyds?_

Her phone buzzed immediately.

 _Perhaps, nerd :D_

Bonnie nearly groaned out loud. That was the last thing she wanted; she'd texted Lady because the quiet girl could usually keep a secret. Lady must have left her phone unattended around Lydia which everyone knew was a rookie mistake. Actually when she thought about it the first message should have given her a clue; Lady was fairly unlikely to reply praising Lydia like that. Bonnie sighed and composed a terse reply.

 _DO NOT make a big deal out of it. It is not a big deal. I'll be home late, no idea how long I'll be at the hospital. Please… just try not to make a big deal of it?_

It took a while longer to get a text back after that. Bonnie was nearly finished her flapjack and she'd been away from Marceline's uncle's room for a decent amount of time. She judged she'd left them to talk for long enough.

 _Not a chance, dorkface! We've been taking bets on who would make the first move since last weekend. Finn owes me a tenner :D I knew she was into you!_

Bonnie slid her phone back into her pocket with a quiet growl. Trust Lydia to somehow interfere and make the whole thing into An Event. And bloody Finn, he should know better than to join in! She was furious at the both of them.

By the time Bonnie found her way back to Marceline's uncle's private room she'd managed to get her anger under control. But only because she didn't want to have to explain to the other girl why she was so annoyed. She entered quietly and slid into the chair next to Marceline, mindful not the wake the old man snoring softly in his hospital bed.

"How is he?" she asked quietly.

"Lucid, which is a nice surprise." Marceline replied. "Simon's got dementia and he doesn't often remember me. Of course it'd be a good day when he has a fucking heart attack. That's just typical Simon."

To Bonnie's surprise Marceline shifted a touch closer and leaned her head on her shoulder with a long sigh.

"Thank you so much for being here." she said again, so quietly it was almost a whisper. "Simon's the only family I have left. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, too."

Bonnie nodded, unsure if she was glad she'd been right or not and distractedly aware of how the other girl's breath was ghosting across the exposed side of her throat. It was warm and sweet and so close that her lips were almost brushing Bonnie's skin. She had to repress the shivers that each breath caused, not wanting to do anything at all that might bring the unexpected closeness to an end. In an uncharacteristically brave move Bonnie reached down and gently took Marceline's hand. She carefully laced her fingers through the other girl's and rubbed her thumb soothingly against the velvety skin of her wrist.

"Like I said, I'm your friend." Bonnie replied just as quietly. Marceline squeezed her hand in reply and snuggled a little closer.

They sat like that for a long time. The room was silent but for the low beep of Simon's heart monitor and their mingled breathing as they watched the old man's bandaged chest move up and down in his sleep. After what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a single hour at most, a nurse stuck her head around the door. Both girls jumped and Marceline leaned away from Bonnie's shoulder, dropping her hand immediately.

"I thought it was you." the portly nurse muttered, mostly to herself. "You'll need to use the staff exit, Miss Ab- um, Petrikova. Someone must have recognised you from the papers or recognised your uncle's name. There are a number of photographers in the public waiting areas and I'm sure you'll want to avoid a scene. People still remember your mother."

Marceline looked like she'd been hit in the face. She stared at the nurse for a long moment, wide eyed like a deer in the headlights. Bonnie stared at her too, confused and unsure what it was she'd missed.

"What the fuck? Some bastard called the papers? But… it was so long ago. I guess I look like her but- but how is this even news? I wish they'd just fucking leave me alone!" Marceline replied with a heavy scowl, suddenly tense and upset again. Bonnie gaped at her; she was the celebrity the press were chasing? But she wasn't famous. She played in dingy pubs and took her payment in free cranberry juice. It made no sense at all but Bonnie knew better than to ask just then.

The nurse just nodded sympathetically and offered her an understanding smile.

"We do have protocols in place for things like this. You're not the first person we've had to hustle away quietly. My shift is finished now anyway, I can show you where the staff entrance is." she murmured in reply. Bonnie wanted to ask more but Marceline was standing, looking around the room critically for something.

"Do you think I can borrow a uniform or something, and maybe a hat?" she asked the nurse eventually.

...

They escaped through the staff entrance into an underground car park. Marceline was disguised in a shapeless nurse's shirt over her own clothes with her hair tucked up under a wide brimmed sun hat that had apparently been in the lost and found office for months. Just to be extra careful Bonnie went around every corner first and peered around for people waiting with long lens cameras. Finally they were free from the hospital grounds and could sprint down the now darkened street together. They ran still arm in arm, trying not to act suspiciously just in case anyone was watching the streets around the hospital too. Bonnie didn't think she'd ever been involved in anything quite so weird and she was burning with curiosity to know why they were hiding from photographers. Once they were firmly ensconced in the back of a hastily flagged black cab and they'd gotten a good few streets away she turned to Marceline who was busy shaking her waist length black hair out from under the hat and tugging the borrowed shirt off.

"Ok." Bonnie said, a little breathlessly. "Spill. I smuggled you out of the hospital, James Bond style, and there are people with cameras chasing you all over London. Wanna tell me what the hell is going on? Are you a spy or something?"

She'd meant it lightly but the other girl's smile died on her face and Marceline was suddenly much more interested in staring at her fingernails. Bonnie remembered too late that she'd said Simon was the only family she had left. It occurred to her that maybe the press weren't tailing her friend just because of her musical talent.

"My Dad killed my Mum and he's spent most of my life in prison. I was only seven years old when I last saw him and most of the time I pretend he's dead too. Dad was involved in organised crime and every time anyone tries to link him to further charges their body turns up in the river sooner or later. He still has contacts on the outside and he's managed to avoid actually being prosecuted for most of it. He's killing anyone who informs on him, he always gets to them in the end. After Mum died I had to go live with Simon because he was the only family member I had left. Then a few years ago he started acting weird and forgetting things and stuff. I dropped out of school and looked after him but this year it got so bad he had to go into care and now I'm basically alone again. He knows he loves me but he doesn't know why. He can barely remember who I am most of the time."

Marceline said it in a flat voice completely devoid of emotion, like she was reading it from a book. The whole time she gazed out of the taxi window at the dark buildings sliding past them and never once made eye contact. Bonnie stared at her, absolutely horrified.

"You're... I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Your own Dad killed your Mum? Why? I mean, I'm sorry, it's so rude of me to ask that. You don't have to talk about it-" Bonnie broke off with a squeak as the other girl turned and wrapped her back into another crushing hug.

"I'm so glad you're my friend." she muttered unexpectedly against Bonnie's hair. "I've done nothing _but_ talk about it, for years, and you're the first person who ever apologised for asking me questions. Everyone thinks that because Mum was moderately famous- she was a model, before she married my Dad and he stole all her independence- well they think they can just ask me anything. Like my grief is public property because people know her name."

Bonnie nodded as best she could with her face pushed against the other girl's shoulder. She didn't know exactly how it felt to have a famous murderer for a father but she was willing to bet it was awful. The cab lurched to a sudden standstill in front of a rundown looking apartment building and Marcy shoved a handful of loose notes at the driver.

"This is my stop." she mumbled, letting go of Bonnie and turning her face away to hide her expression behind a sheet of hair. Bonnie hesitated; it wasn't far from Bethnal Green underground and she doubted even the fistful of cash Marceline had handed the driver would cover her as far as Leyton. Should she get out with her, walk her up to her building? Or was that too forward?

"I'll walk you to your door." Bonnie heard herself say. Apparently her mouth had made its mind up while she was still dithering. Heart suddenly hammering again she slid out of the cab after the other girl and followed her towards the stairwell leading to the first floor corridor.

"This used to be Simon's place, until he got too ill and had to go to Whitehills. I just... it's the only place I've called home that has happy memories for me, I wanted to stay." the dark haired girl explained as they walked. Bonnie just nodded, unsure what to say.

They stopped in front of a flaky painted red door and Marceline turned to her, looking her fully in the face for the first time since they left the hospital.

"Look, thank you for today. This was in no way as fun as Ramiro's would have been. Wanna go some other time?" she asked softly.

"Um, sure. I'd like that." Bonnie mumbled. Was it a date? Should she ask? She had no idea; she suspected she'd probably be the last person to know.

But this time she was sure she wasn't imagining it. Bonnie's heart almost stopped dead in her chest with shock and joy and some kind of unnameable fullness. Because Marceline was swaying forwards again, closing the distance between their faces and in another second their lips would touch-

At precisely the same moment Bonnie became distantly aware of footsteps on the stairwell. Marceline changed her trajectory entirely and swung her head to the side, leaning in for an awkward hug instead.

"Thanks for today." she mumbled, pressing her cheek against Bonnie's for a brief second before pulling back. And then, more loudly and in an entirely false cheerful voice, "Hey, Mo! Been waiting in ambush for me to come home, huh? Don't worry, I didn't forget about your bass lesson."

There was a hulking teenage boy staring at them from the end of the corridor with a huge old fashioned bass case slung over one shoulder. He couldn't be older than about sixteen and he was glaring at Bonnie with open jealousy and disgust.

"You remember Bonnie, right? My friend from the pub. Bon, this is Baseem Mohammed, he's the boy from downstairs that I tutor." Marceline said still a touch too loudly, grinning nervously back and forth between them. "Bonnie was just heading home, B-Mo." she added.

With a forced nonchalant shrug Bonnie turned towards the stairs. There was already a sharp churn of rejection in her gut and she was desperate to escape to somewhere she could have the meltdown she knew was coming in private. She pushed past the boy and almost tripped in her haste to get down the stairs.

"Hey, I'll text you about dinner!" Marceline called after her. Bonnie just raised a hand and waved over her shoulder. She didn't want to risk speaking and give away the intense stab of hurt that the other girl's strange behaviour had caused to lance through her chest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Did everyone have a good Christmas? I hope so! I spent it with my parents and aunt, it was nice. Still in something of a turkey coma.**

 **So I know that for those of you following Continuum too I owe you an update, it's just that the next chapter needs a massive rewrite to make it Stakes compliant. So hopefully I'll get that done soon but this was all ready to post and staring pointedly at me, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post it.**

 **Content warning: anxiety attacks, mostly unintentional physical intimidation, references to PTSD. It's starting to get dark in here.**

* * *

"So she's not out yet. So? Don't you remember how scary coming out was?"

"No. I remember casually mentioning to my Mum that I had a crush on a girl at school and that was that, no fuss. I mean its twenty first century Britain, who's scared to come out any more?"

Finn just shook his head and shared a significant look with Susan over his tea mug. They'd holed themselves up in the lounge of Bonnie's apartment, commandeering the sofa from Lydia and whatever her current boy toy was called that week. Finn thought this one might be a Bradley or a Philip but he hadn't actually bothered to check. Lydia would have moved on to someone new by the time he next came over to their apartment anyway.

Bonnie hadn't been to her lectures, hadn't left the house or even gotten changed out of her pyjamas that morning. Apparently things hadn't gone as perfectly with her weird hospital date as she'd hoped and now she was having a continuous low level meltdown about it. Eventually Lydia had gotten sick of her moping and called Finn to come and help. He loved Bonnie to bits and he knew Susan was fond of her too but sometimes the redhead could be difficult to deal with, stubborn and fixated on small negatives. For one of the most scarily intelligent people he'd ever met Bonnie could be amazingly dumb when it came to looking after her own emotional wellbeing.

"Do you really think homophobia doesn't exist anymore? Is that what you're saying?" Susan asked, a little too loudly. Bonnie flushed and curled into a tighter ball in her corner of the sofa, wrapping her arms over her head miserably.

"No! Of course I know homophobia exists, I'm not saying that." she mumbled in reply, peeking out from between her arms at them. "Just, why was she so embarrassed at being caught with me? She doesn't even live with that guy; he's just some random kid from her building!"

Susan rolled her eyes. Bonnie flushed again and curled harder around herself, defeated.

"It just hurts to get pushed away like that." she mumbled into her sleeve.

"Not as much as getting beaten up by your neighbours hurts." Finn said gently. "Bon, you're out and happy and comfortable and that's wonderful. But you've gotta remember not everyone is as smart as you, or has as much experience as you or lives in the same level of safety as you. You've gotta be patient with people especially if they're in a different place than you in their lives. It might not be safe for her to be open about her sexuality, or she might still be working out how she identifies. Maybe you get the huge honour of being the first girl she's ever fancied and now she's dealing with coming to terms with that. We just don't know."

"I really like her." Bonnie muttered, still not able to look up and meet Finn's eyes. "And I thought she liked me back. But now I wonder if maybe I imagined the whole thing. Maybe I misread it. Maybe I'm just a stupid moron who builds all these fantasy scenarios in my head and then I get let down and it's all my own fault because I'm so fucking stupid and-"

Finn reached over and drew the shaking ball of distressed redhead into as close a hug as he could, cutting off the stream of her self-loathing before it could get too vicious.

"Shut up. Just... shut up and listen, Bonnie. You're brilliant. Alright? _Brilliant_. Like, the best person I know. Know how I know that? Cause I _know_ you, Bon, I've known you for years. Nobody else is qualified to tell you how brilliant you are. And trust me, that girl is definitely interested in you, cause you're amazing. She just needs you to understand. It's not as easy for her as it is for you for whatever reason. But if you're patient and gentle with her and take it slow and give her time and space when she needs it then you just might get to find out if she's loud enough to wake the neighbours."

Bonnie sniffled and punched his shoulder lightly.

"Pervert." she replied a little wetly.

"It's just one more reason you love me." Finn replied with his trademark grin.

Susan came and joined the hug too, slumping down heavily across both of them and enveloping them in her muscular arms.

"You're a lucky person." she said thickly. "So many people love you. Stop saying awful things about yourself."

Bonnie just nodded and held onto them both. Susan was right, she was so lucky to have such awesome friends.

...

 _how would you like to come to another show plus overnight accommodation plus dinner plus my sparkling company? x x x_

It took a very long time for Marceline's phone to light up with a reply, but when it did she sighed in open relief. She'd been so worried that Bonnie was angry with her for pushing her away when Mo had ambushed them that night after they'd been at the hospital together. She just couldn't face the awkward conversations with Mo that would have arisen from him catching them- doing what? She wasn't even completely sure herself what her intentions had been until she'd seen the other girl's eyes flicker closed as she moved forward. And _oh, perhaps a kiss,_ but then no, Mo and awkwardness and misunderstanding instead. At that point Marceline hadn't been sure what she was even doing, the day had been so confusing and emotional and she may very well have been functioning purely on instinct. Apparently her instincts wanted her to lean in for a goodnight kiss and the more she thought about it the more she really wanted to. But then Bonnie hadn't replied to her message and she'd backed off, given the redhead some space. Her revelation about how badly she'd wanted to kiss the other girl had also made Marcy paranoid about coming on too strongly and scaring Bonnie away. She wasn't exactly an expert at dating. Taking it slow might be the best policy until she could talk to Bonnie face to face again.

 _What's the catch?_

Not the most eloquent message Bonnie had ever sent her, in fact it bordered on terse. But it was a reply at least. Marceline had been worried that the other girl was upset when she'd maintained radio silence all week. It had been an anxious and uncomfortable few days waiting for her to get back in touch.

 _well i dunno if its a catch exactly but you said you had a car and if i paid you for petrol i was wondering if youd like to go for a bit of a drive? my next show is out of town xxx_

Softly-softly was probably the best way forwards, Marceline figured. Because asking someone to drive you hundreds of miles right off the bat was probably bad karma or manners or whatever. Marceline's phone buzzed again and she grabbed it, unaccountably nervous.

 _Where?_

Alright, Bonnie might be a just a little bit pissed at her. She was down to replying with single words. It was difficult to think of a charming and subtle way to provide the information that had been so brusquely requested so in the end Marceline decided to just ask and see where that got her.

 _i know its a long way but... newcastle? i have a friend who organised a gig for me and its a proper one at the academy and everything theres a really good chance i can get signed to a record label but i need to take my equipment and i cant manage it all on the train and like i said id give you petrol money and pay for a nice hotel and anything else you want x x x_

What else could she add to sweeten the deal? Marceline considered but she couldn't think of anything so after a long minute of staring at her phone she hit 'send' and went back to nibbling nervously on the corner of her lip.

She was lying on her stomach in bed, still in her pyjamas and ignoring the steady tap of rain against her window that somehow made the whole room feel much smaller and cosier. It was probably too late in the morning to be snuggled under the duvet still but she had nothing planned for the day. All of the various teens she tutored in the area were in school, the women's centre she volunteered at a couple of days a week hadn't needed her and Simon was being transferred back to Whitehills from hospital. She didn't want to be in the way; she'd go see him once he was settled. So she had an unexpected lie in, curled under her duvet like a caterpillar with her favourite teddy bear Hambo and a reheated bowl of homemade vegan noodles. Marceline listened to the rain and replayed her confusing encounter with Bonnie from every angle she could think of.

Had the other girl just been leaning in for a hug? It was hard to tell; she'd panicked and made the whole thing a million times more awkward than it needed to be when she'd heard someone coming up the stairs. Damn Mo and his terrible timing. Maybe she was reading it all wrong, that was a definite possibility. She'd asked the redhead on plenty of dates to really romantic restaurants. She'd even flirted her butt off and asked her for a ton more information about her bewildering genetics research. Marceline thought she'd made her intentions perfectly clear last time they'd arranged to go out and she'd replied with ' _its a date'_ but evidently Bonnie didn't see it that way. Maybe she'd misread the other girl entirely, maybe she was straight after all. That'd make a lot of sense actually. Marceline wasn't exactly an expert at talking to attractive women either. It would be absolutely typical that her first awkward attempt at dating anyone would turn out to be an uneasy friendship with a beautiful confused straight girl who just liked the snapbacks and converse aesthetic and had a rainbow keyring because she liked rainbows.

Marcy nearly dropped her phone in shock when it began to ring, not just buzz with a text message. Bonnie's face flashed up on the screen, the hasty snap Marceline had sneakily taken of the other girl when she was busy reading the menu in Ramiro's. She answered it cautiously; very aware that Bonnie didn't call people unless it was important and that she seemed to be pretty annoyed with Marceline.

"Hey?"

"Newcastle? Are you fucking serious? As in, Newcastle Upon Tyne, the most northerly city in England? As in, three hundred miles away and a five hour drive? Seriously?"

Well she wasn't replying with just single words anymore, that was a positive, right?

"Yeah, I know it's a long way. But like, I thought it'd be fun, like a road trip! And it's just me, the rest of the band are staying here. They sorta don't know I'm going."

Bonnie didn't reply for a long moment. Marceline could almost feel her disapproval radiating through the phone.

"That's a butt move, Marcy. They deserve to have a shot at getting signed, too."

"Nah not really. If they're any good they'll get signed on their own talent, no need to steal my reflected glory. I mean, Bongo's pretty awesome but he's the best of them. And Bongo doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene. He's a got a daytime job, he's doing alright. He can play the honky-tonk like anything! Saving it up for Friday night."

"Those are the lyrics to Sultans of Swing, Marceline."

She grinned widely. There weren't many people who noticed when she did that. It was an ongoing joke she and Simon had had when she was younger to see what they could sneak past each other.

"Your knowledge of uncool old dad rock is way impressive, Bon. So is that a yes? I can book us a really nice hotel and we can ride their teeny tiny metro underground system and talk loudly about how it's inferior to the Tube and-"

"Fine! Yes! I'll drive you! But only because I've never been north of Watford before and it'll be like an anthropological study."

"Really? Oh you're the best, you're amazing! Thank you so much you wonderful, beautiful, angelic person!" Marceline beamed down the phone, uncertainty about where she stood with the other girl completely forgotten for the moment.

"Shut up." Bonnie growled, sounding angrier than the praise really warranted.

"Sorry. I just, yeah, thank you so much. If we set off on the Saturday morning we can be there in time to chill for a bit before the gig starts at eight. Is that... acceptable?"

Bonnie breathed out heavily, not quite a sigh but not far off.

"So it's gonna take my whole damn weekend? It had better be a _really_ nice hotel. With a spa."

"Sure! A spa, that sounds lovely. Gotta start living like a rock star, yeah?"

"Sure, Marcy. You're a teetotal vegan rock star. Very punk."

...

By Friday afternoon the steady rain still hadn't let up and when Mo slouched reluctantly out of the main door of his school building he frowned at the leaden sky angrily. He'd been in a bad mood all week, ever since he'd caught that queer looking bitch from the pub trying to get entirely too close to his Marcy. She was trouble, he just knew it.

"Hey, squirt. Brought you an umbrella."

Mo jumped almost a foot off the ground, whipping around at Marceline's voice. She was perched gracefully on the low wall by the door. He'd missed her entirely because she was dressed all in black and leaning up against the dark painted brickwork of the gym. Maybe he'd just been too busy glaring at the sky; her bright yellow umbrella was fairly conspicuous. She handed him the second umbrella, this one bright purple, and grinned at him.

"You aren't supposed to be on school grounds unless you're a parent or a student." Mo muttered embarrassedly. Suddenly he was a bit guilty about the uncharitable thoughts he'd been having about her friend. Even if the girl was a homosexual, Marcy liked her so Mo supposed he should try not to be too mean about her. Unless she hurt his girl. Then she was fair game.

"Yeah well, most of the teachers know me and I'm just here to pick up my little sproglet after a hard day's learning, aren't I?" she replied with a laugh. Mo glowered at her, annoyed at being described as anyone's 'sproglet'.

Before he could reply a small dark shape shot out of the thick crowd of kids streaming past them and barrelled into Marceline's legs with a delighted shriek, resolving into his little brother Asif.

"A-Mo! Hey little man! Room under my umbrella for you too." Marcy beamed at the younger boy. Asif was only eleven, he'd only just started big school that year and he was still pretty small compared to most of his classmates.

"Marcy! Did Mum send you? I learned about rocks today! Do you know that metamorphic rocks are just other types of rocks that get heated up and pressed together by the earth? And copper is the best conductor of electricity out of everything! That's why they make wires out of it!" Asif babbled excitedly. He continued a bright stream of one sided conversation as they walked out of the school gates together, completely unselfconscious as he grabbed her free hand and towed her towards the street. Mo glared at little Asif; he'd wanted to share the walk home with Marcy alone because it was pretty clear she'd only come to see him.

"Guys, your Mum took Mahtab into the hospital so I'm looking after you until your Dad finishes work." Marcy interrupted as they went. "Nothing serious! But her cough got worse and the doctor didn't have any appointments left. We've got to drop by Maple Hill and get H-Mo and Aishah too. Then you guys are coming to my place for your dinner. I even got you some chicken and stuff, is that alright? Might need a hand cooking the icky dead things, though."

"Is Mahtab gonna be ok?" Asif asked with panic in his eyes.

"Yeah, she'll be fine! She's just a bit wheezy and stuff, she needs some medicine. But your Mum didn't want poor B-Mo to have to look after all of you all at once and you know I'm always glad to have you guys."

"Mum does not trust me to cook." Mo muttered, annoyed. He was worried about his baby sister too but mostly he was irritated that Asif and the twins were going to be around when he could be having alone time with Marcy. Those little kids always made him look bad.

It wasn't a long walk up to Maple Hill Primary School and Hassan and Aishah were already waiting for them at the gates. They were both staring around worriedly because usually their mother was already there to pick them up when school let out. When they saw Marceline and their older brothers coming along the street Aishah ran out to meet them.

"Where's Mum?" she asked breathlessly the minute she was close enough.

"At the hospital with the shit-machine." Mo replied with an eye roll.

"B-Mo! Don't be mean about the baby!" Aishah shrieked, scandalised.

"She's right, you butt! Mahtab's the loveliest baby in the world, everyone poops. Even you." Marceline joined in. Trust her to take the side of the only other girl there. Mo rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. We're having dinner at Marcy's." he informed his younger siblings. Hassan had timidly come and joined them; he was getting a fond hug from Marceline.

"Is the baby ok?" Hassan asked quietly.

"She's just got a nasty cough, honey. She'll be fine." Marceline soothed. She dropped a quick kiss onto Hassan's head and he beamed up at her, making Mo glower even harder. _Stupid little kids_ , he thought sulkily.

By the time they arrived back at the apartment block Marceline was soaked to the skin. She'd let Aishah and Hassan borrow her umbrella and cheerfully ignored Mo's attempts to link arms with her and walk together with him and Asif. She left the twins to fiddle with plugging some of her retro video games consoles into the ancient TV set in the lounge while she ducked into her bedroom to change. Asif and Mo were trying to work out how to dice chicken in the kitchen and she figured they'd be busy for at least as long as it took her to find a shirt that wasn't soaking wet. So Mo's voice scared the crap out of her when he spoke her name quietly from the doorway.

"Mo! Geez, get out! I'm not dressed yet!" Marceline yelped, grabbing the first thing she could and wrapping it tightly across her chest before whipping around to face him. He must have already seen her naked back but at least she still had her jeans on. She shivered at the intrusion. It was somehow worse because she had no idea how long he'd been standing there staring at the elaborate tattoo that stretched from the small of her back all the way up to her shoulders and she was panicky about her skin at the best of times.

"Sorry." he replied, not sounding it at all. "Asif kicked me out of the kitchen and I wanted to ask you something anyway."

"It couldn't have waited until I found a bloody shirt?" she groused, glaring at where Mo was leaning casually against the door frame. She didn't like that he saw nothing wrong with walking uninvited into her bedroom and loitering intimidatingly around the only exit. Just recently Mo had hit another growth spurt and he was taller than her now. He was probably stronger too and clearly not good with respecting boundaries or privacy. It made her unaccountably nervous. She wished she didn't live in a world where that was even something that crossed her mind but if it came to it she didn't think she'd be strong enough to fight him off. Marceline really didn't want to find out if she was or not.

"Just a quick question." Mo replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Fine. Turn around and let me put something on and you can ask your bloody question, quickly." she mumbled with a deep scowl.

Obligingly he turned around to face the wall and she pulled a baggy green sweater on. It was a bit scratchy against her damp skin but Marcy didn't want to waste time hunting around for a t-shirt when Mo was still blocking the exit.

"That girl who walked you home last night. She is a homosexual, isn't she?" Mo asked in a tone that dripped jealousy, still staring at the wall.

"I don't actually know if she is not, we never talked about it." Marceline answered truthfully after a moment of heart stopping terror.

"She dresses like one. All flannel shirts and baseball caps, I know what that look means."

"And? You can't judge someone by their clothes, Baseem Mohammed. I thought you knew better than that." Marceline replied uncomfortably.

"Ok. But was she trying to kiss you? She looked like she was going to kiss you." Mo turned around after a moment of tense silence. Marceline was staring harder at him with a deep blush on her tan cheeks.

"I really don't know." Marcy said again, avoiding his gaze. "And I don't want to offend you, Mo. But it's really none of your business who I choose to kiss or not kiss."

He scowled and clenched his fists and Marceline backed up a couple of steps to put the bed more firmly between them. Panic flared in her chest at the furious expression on his face. Mo had never been like this, he'd never been physically intimidating before. He was sweet and funny and often watched her like she was made of pure magic; he'd never been aggressive with her. Marceline didn't know where it was coming from but she instantly hated it. She barely recognised the sweet boy who she'd taught to play bass anymore.

"But what if you told her to back off, that you had a boyfriend? What if you wanted to kiss me instead?" he pressed.

"That would be a lie then, B-Mo." she replied quietly. She tried to keep her voice as calm and even as possible around the bubble of fear trying to force its way up her throat. "Because I care about you, I think you're a lovely guy. But like I said before, I think of you as a little brother. Family. And right now you're really scaring me."

He took a threatening step forwards and she took another step back, hitting the wall with her shoulder blades and very aware that she'd run out of space to put between them. Her back was burning with psychological pain again and her breathing was coming quick and terrified. Mo was triggering all kinds of ancient PTSD and if he got too close she wasn't sure what her reaction would be, she might scream or hit him or just curl up and cry. She hadn't been in a situation where she'd been forced to find out how she responded to feeling trapped for a very long time.

"Why would you be afraid of me? Why _not_ kiss me? I'm a nice guy, I am not going hurt you!" Mo demanded in a voice full of genuine hurt and confusion. He stared at the traumatised expression on her face and something in his body language shifted from threatening to vulnerable. He seemed to almost deflate and sank down onto the end of her bed with his head in his hands. Marceline let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Marcy? What is wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird? I don't want scare you!" Mo said shakily. "I just... I really like you. You are always so nice to me."

"Because I'm your friend, Mo. That's what friends do." Marceline replied distantly.

They both fell silent for a while. Mo stared down at his hands while Marceline stood perfectly still, watching him warily.

"Can I have a hug?" he asked quietly after a while.

"Is it ok if I say no? I'm too shaky right now." Marcy replied, still not moving from where she was flattened against the wall. Mo looked up at her with eyes swirling with guilt and confusion.

"Yeah. Ok. I understand, I think. I should, uh, go see what A-Mo is doing. He is too little to use knives unsupervised." Mo muttered. He stood up and slouched out of the room. Marceline slid down the wall in a heap, wrapped her arms around her knees and trembled with delayed fear.

Her mind was whirling, crowded with memories of the many times she'd seen her mother covering up fist sized bruises with too much make up. The times she'd backed up against a wall because she'd run out of space to put between herself and Marceline's father. She's seen him do awful things to her mother, things no child should have ever witnessed. And just for a moment when Mo's face had twisted into a snarl she'd seen Hunson standing over her instead. Maybe one day she'd tell Mo more about it so that he understood. But she didn't want him to think she owed him an explanation for not wanting to hug him right after he'd terrified her and she was trying to control a massive panic attack. It was a long time before Marcy's breathing and heart rate slowed back down and longer still before she could get up and go talk to the twins in a normal voice.


	8. Chapter 8

**So you may have noticed the summary has changed ever so slightly. I added a further warning for the sex and violence that will happen later in the story, just I don't want anyone to say I took them by surprise with deeply graphic stuff because I'm normally very careful to warn people about anything potentially shocking or triggering. Consider yourself warned: this chapter is perfectly innocent but sometime soon there will be all kinds of very on-screen no-pants-dancing. It is most definitely NSFW.**

 **Content Warning: feminist attitudes towards butthurt straight boys, very graphic descriptions of a city and hotel I once stayed in, very subtle hints towards backstory. Nothing terribly triggering here I guess.**

* * *

 _Your taxi is outside and your chauffeur is highly caffeinated. Need help with your equipment or can I just stay behind the wheel? x_

Oh, so they were back to putting kisses on the end of texts? That was encouraging. Marceline smiled tiredly at her phone and tapped out a quick reply before she jumped up from where she'd been waiting in the stairwell of her apartment building and lugged her amp and guitar cases out to the waiting car. At least it had finally stopped raining.

 _nop ive got it already downstairs with my amps n stuff just pop the boot and ill load it right up x x x_

She looked towards Mo's window as she went by but nobody seemed to be home; he was probably either still asleep or out someplace. Mo hadn't been acting completely normally either. He'd texted a couple of times but his language had seemed overly polite and a bit distant. It hurt her even though he'd been the one to make things weird. Marcy had meant it when she told the boy she thought of him as a little brother and she had precious few family members left, she didn't like being at odds with him. But equally she didn't know what she could do about it until he grew up a bit and stopped acting like her lack of interest in kissing him was a personal insult. Like her simply not wanting to wasn't enough of a reason to say no. Marceline was absolutely done with being objectified by anyone and she didn't have the time or inclination to soothe his bruised ego. If Mo wanted to be butthurt about it he'd just have to get over that on his own. He hadn't even asked for an explanation for her panic attack and that hurt her almost more than his selfish behaviour had. She knew he did care about her, just at the moment he was being an entitled prick and that wasn't like the boy she knew. Perhaps it would have even been nice to tell him about it. She might have felt a little better if she wasn't carrying her past around like some terrible secret the whole time.

Marcy wasn't the only one who'd been doing a lot of thinking. After a couple of days to reflect on it as well as Finn and Susan's love bombing intervention through the week Bonnie was feeling a lot more confident in her ability to navigate a platonic friendship with Marceline. The dark haired girl was a lot of fun to be around; she had an infectious smile and always looked for the silver lining no matter what was happening. She had a way of seeing things that was different from anyone else Bonnie had ever met. Just because Bonnie often had to repress the urge to slide her hands through that gorgeous silky hair and pull her forward for a kiss didn't mean they couldn't be friends, right? It just meant they'd have to have the kind of friendship where one friend was completely oblivious of the fact that the other had an entirely inappropriate crush on them. Or was sometimes uncomfortable in their company and sometimes fantasized about them in a not completely platonic way. So long as they weren't alone together for too long Bonnie figured she'd be able to deal with it fine. Of course, then she'd immediately gone and agreed to be alone with Marcy for the entire weekend because clearly she couldn't be asked a favour by a gorgeous and completely off limits woman without entertaining vivid fantasies about sweeping her off her feet and kissing her breathless, like the total idiot she knew she was.

Bonnie let the engine idle while she waited. She was parked a little way from the building; far enough that she could observe for a minute while the other girl struggled with two guitar cases and her enormous amplifier. It was on wheels but that didn't make it any easier to roll across the cracked and bumpy tarmac of the small car park. She took a moment to appreciate just how good Marcy looked in a slim button down shirt and very close fitting skinny jeans before the critical part of her brain reminded her that the other girl had pushed her away, wasn't interested in her and was almost certainly more concerned with Jake's shoes and how spacious Bonnie's car was than anything else. Despite what Finn had said Bonnie couldn't shake the feeling she had absolutely no shot with Marceline and the whole weekend was probably going to be absolute torture for her.

She obligingly popped the boot anyway, even got out of the car to help load the amp despite the chastising voice in the back of Bonnie's head telling her she was acting like a lovesick puppy.

"So tell me about this hotel." Bonnie said distractedly while Marceline slid into the front passenger seat and adjusted the leg room. Bonnie tried not to stare; close up her jeans were even more snugly fitted than they'd looked from across the car park.

"It's really good. It has the spa you asked for, it's pretty central and I paid extra for a really nice suite because hey, rock star in training here." Marceline replied with a tired smile and a voice that dragged a little with fatigue. Bonnie peered more closely at her face. There were tell-tale dark rings under her eyes and she kept rubbing her left shoulder like it was irritating her.

"Late night?" Bonnie enquired gently.

"No, just I haven't been sleeping so well recently." Marcy muttered, hunching down in her seat and avoiding her friend's concerned gaze. Bonnie frowned a little but didn't push it; she could recognise when someone had something they didn't want to talk about at least.

"Alright, let me put the postcode into the sat nav and we'll be away. I've factored in about an hour and a half for coffee breaks so we'll be there about four o'clock this afternoon depending on traffic. Will that give you enough time to get ready before the gig starts?"

Marceline just nodded and handed over a scrap of paper with a postcode scribbled down messily in what looked suspiciously like eye liner pencil. Bonnie shrugged at the sheepish smile Marcy offered her questioning glance and keyed it into the borrowed sat nav. She stared at the address that popped up, certain for a moment that she'd made a mistake before she remembered who she was dealing with.

"Did you seriously book us into the Malmaison? Isn't that a bit... upmarket?"

"You wanted a hotel with a spa and there weren't that many to choose from in the city centre." Marcy shrugged, eyes closed and head resting wearily against the seat back. She looked like she hadn't slept properly for much more than just a couple of nights. Maybe not since Simon had been taken into the hospital last week.

Bonnie didn't know what to say about the hotel; she'd really only been half joking about it needing to have a spa and certainly she hadn't expected Marcy to actually listen to her. She'd never been to a spa in her life. She supposed she'd forgotten that the other girl was clearly from money despite living in a somewhat run down area. There was every chance Marceline might not have realised she'd been joking; so they were going to a fancy hotel with a spa after all then. She wanted to thank Marceline for her generosity but she couldn't think of a way to do so without embarrassing them both terribly so she just stayed quiet.

Bonnie peered worriedly at her friend for a minute longer but Marcy didn't move or say anything else. She just slouched into the passenger seat quietly with her eyes closed and her brows knit together into a dark grimace, almost like she was in pain. Bonnie couldn't think of anything else to say so in the end she revved the car and released the handbrake instead. They rolled onto the road and set off northwards, towards the motorway. After a couple of minutes of tense silence where Marcy quietly glowered at the scenery flashing past her window and Bonnie racked her brain for something to say she sighed and flicked the CD player to life instead. It was an old car, she still had to use CDs or brave the inconsistent nature of the radio and honestly Bonnie didn't mind having to listen to everything on CD. They were really cheap to buy second hand and she'd amassed what she considered to be quite the collection over the years; although she got the feeling the other girl would probably disagree. After about thirty seconds Marceline looked round and stared hard at her.

"What the actual literal hell are we even listening to?"

Bonnie blushed.

"The, um, Frozen soundtrack. I just, um, I like Disney." she replied embarrassedly.

Marceline stared harder.

"How do you have a driving licence if you're actually only seven years old?" she demanded after a long moment.

"Hey, you can get the bus if you prefer." Bonnie replied, a little hurt. Marceline just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Nah I'm good for taking the bus thanks. Let's listen to Frozen, I mean who doesn't want that stupid 'building a snowman' song stuck in their head for six and a half hours? Whenever you want a break from this crap I brought a couple of old mixtapes to listen to. Dad rock mostly, Simon's favourites and stuff I strongly suspect you secretly like. Black Sabbath, Sex Pistols, Queen, that style of thing. Quality tunes for Dads of a certain age, and for us too I guess. Got a Joni Mitchell CD in there too if you're feeling emotional. Or Alanis Morissette. Even got some Mozart, just for a change of pace."

"I like Disney." Bonnie repeated with a smile. Platonic was really easy actually, so long as she was looking at the road and they stuck to playful teasing about music. So long as she didn't have to look at those soft eyes and stunning smile, they were what turned her knees to water and ruined all her careful plans.

"Don't pretend like you're some sweet innocent princess. I know you noticed when I quoted Dire Straits the other day. You like rock, secretly."

Bonnie just shrugged and sang along to her CD annoyingly loudly, glad they'd moved past the awkward silence. She was planning for the next six and a half hours to be a magical adventure actually. After they'd finished with Frozen she had The Lion King, Mulan, Hercules, Pocahontas and probably a pile of other Disney soundtracks in a bright pink CD holder in the glove compartment. By the time they pulled onto the main motorway northbound Marcy was reluctantly tapping her foot along to Let It Go and rolling her eyes.

…

Somewhere in the middle of their journey Marceline's eyes slid closed and her breathing deepened to the slow rhythm of the soundly asleep. Bonnie turned the volume down on the CD player and risked a glance at Marceline's relaxed face. She looked a bit paler than usual and quite tense, like she'd been under a lot of stress recently. It wasn't surprisingly since her uncle had been rushed to hospital but even still Bonnie worried for her friend. Marceline had been unusually silent for most of the journey after their brief conversation about mixtapes, staring out of the window at the autumnal countryside rolling by and mostly only speaking when spoken to. Bonnie let her be quiet if she wanted. Something more than Simon's heart attack was clearly bothering her; maybe she was still upset about being chased by tabloid photographers. Bonnie would probably be upset about that too, it must be a constant reminder of the awful things that had happened when she was a child.

They drove in relative peace for a while longer, before the redhead became aware that the other girl was muttering in her sleep.

"...don't want... please, Mum." she murmured with a frown.

Bonnie stilled, as much as she could while still driving safely. Marceline had told her that day at the hospital that Simon was the only family she had left, that her father had killed her mother and gone to jail. Suddenly Bonnie was terribly uncomfortable at being alone in the car with Marceline talking about her dead mother in her sleep. She absolutely didn't want to intrude.

"...it hurts." Marcy whimpered, grimacing more and gripping her left shoulder unconsciously. Bonnie looked over at her anxiously for a moment before she reluctantly turned her eyes back to the road.

Marceline continued to say one or two words every now and again, but mostly it was too quietly for Bonnie to make out. She thought at one point the other girl said "hurts" again and maybe "Daddy" but she wasn't certain. She opened her eyes blearily a couple of hours later and squinted at Bonnie, struggling against the stab of unexpectedly bright sunshine slanting into her eyes.

"...Marshall?"

Bonnie glanced around at her, concerned.

"No, it's Bonnie. I'm driving you to Newcastle, remember?" she said gently to the sleep confused girl. "Who's Marshall?"

Marceline stared at her bewilderedly and her eyes slid back into focus as she came awake more fully.

"Who's…? Nobody. He's nobody. Where are we, anyway?" she hastily changed the subject, looking away out of the window again.

"We just went past the junction for Washington. We'll be there soon." Bonnie replied carefully, unwilling to push for more information when it was clearly making the other girl uncomfortable. Marceline stared at her again with her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Washington. Like, Washington the city? You drove us right across the Atlantic while I was napping?"

"Washington, Tyne and Wear. As in Washington the tiny village that the state, city and first president of the United States were all named after. George Washington's family lived there before some of them emigrated to America." Bonnie replied with a smile, glad they were back on safer ground.

"Huh. I knew that! I bet we'd be lethal in a pub quiz though, we should team up some time." Marcy muttered distractedly. Then, "Hey, the Angel of the North! Look!"

It was a pretty good distraction, certainly better than the local bus service; a huge metal angel on a hill overlooking the city that stretched across the valley below. Bonnie wasn't usually a fan of modern art but she quite liked the look of the angel, even if it did resemble a giant old fashioned airplane stuck tail first in the ground. She allowed herself to get caught up in a conversation about the sculptor who'd made it and temporarily forget about the mysterious name Marcy had been muttering as she came awake.

Pretty soon after that they came into the city proper and crossed the river while Marcy told her enthusiastically about how the structure of the old bridge was identical to the one in Sydney harbour. She seemed to be in a better mood since her nap at least. Then they were almost immediately right in the centre of the city and Bonnie had to gently tell her to shut up so she could concentrate on the unfamiliar busy roads. They'd made good time, hadn't needed to take anywhere near as many coffee breaks as Bonnie had thought they would. It was barely even three in the afternoon when they finally pulled into the small hotel car park. True to promise the building itself looked decidedly upmarket; it was all pastel up lighting and tall imposing windows. They left the sound equipment in the car for later and went to check in. Bonnie felt particularly embarrassed at leaving her beaten up old Punto parked next to a shiny brand new BMW convertible.

The hotel lobby was no less intimidating. Huge plate mirrors and expensive looking fresh floral arrangements were very much in evidence. The whole place had the feel of having been corporate branded within an inch of its life; probably just the lighting design cost more than Bonnie's mother's house.

"I know it's probably really rude but I have to ask. How are you affording this? This place looks like a single night here costs more than a month's rent in Leyton. I thought it was supposed to be cheaper in the north?" Bonnie muttered uncomfortably as they waited for their keys. She wished she'd put some nicer shoes on, her elderly and much abused pink Converse looked particularly threadbare and grubby against the plush carpets of the hotel.

"I inherited bit of money when my Mum died and Simon isn't exactly poor. I've got access to funds if I need them." Marceline replied vaguely.

Bonnie would have asked more about it but the tall man on reception who'd been checking them in returned from the side room he'd disappeared into a moment before with two key cards. He handed them over with a friendly smile and pointed towards the lifts.

"You're on the top floor, Ark Royal suite." he told them with a nod. "Need some help with your bags?"

"We're fine thanks, they're not heavy." Marceline replied with an easy smile in return. Even though she was dressed just as casually as Bonnie she seemed completely at home surrounded by the expensive décor.

"The Ark Royal was the flagship of the British fleet against the invading Spanish Armada during the reign of Elizabeth the First. Dunno if it has links to Newcastle though, I know they made ships here but I think that was much later. Simon would have been able to deliver an hour long lecture off the top of his head about it though, he knew literally everything." Marceline told Bonnie absent mindedly as they waited by the lifts.

"Really? Why would you even know that? And why would they name a hotel suite after it?" Bonnie replied in confusion.

"Dunno about the suite, but I know tons about history and stuff. Not as much as Simon but still tons. He used to take me all over the place before he got ill; we went all over the world having adventures. India, Australia, Sweden, you name it I've been there with Simon. He was a historian and antiquarian so the university paid him to go have foreign adventures. It was all very Indiana Jones. He took me to Machu Picchu for my tenth birthday, crazy stuff like that. Uncle Simon was literally the best. I wanted to be a historian too but then I had to quit school and besides, music was my first love and it will be my last."

"Mhm. That's a song lyric." Bonnie murmured, distracted. She was staring at the key cards with a definite frown on her face. "These keys are for the same room." she added, confused.

"Um, yeah? Road crew always bunk with the band, that's why I splashed out and got us a fancy suite. It's like, a rock'n'roll tradition."

Bonnie didn't reply, just followed Marceline into the lift with another small frown, and lost in thought. Something about the whole situation felt decidedly odd to her. Did road crew bunk with the band? Was that really a tradition? She ruminated on it while they rode the mirrored lift to the top floor and lugged their bags down the hall. The key cards fit a door at the end of the dark corridor and when it swung inwards Bonnie felt her eyes widen. She'd stayed in hotels before but never anything that could be considered expensive. The room they stepped into was like something from a film set.

It was an executive suite, alright. Probably the fanciest suite in the fancy hotel if not the whole city. It had not just one but two enormous baths side by side, a four poster king sized bed and huge windows with spectacular views across the various old bridges Marceline had been admiring on the way into the city.

"This must have cost a fortune!" Bonnie breathed as she stared wide eyed around the room. Marceline just grinned devilishly at her and flung herself onto the huge bed.

"Something else I picked up from Simon, I like to travel in style! Huh, guess they call it the Ark Royal Suite because the baths are in attack formation? And look, the mattress is extra bouncy. Quality." she sighed happily. "Oh! I forgot. Your spa vouchers. Go enjoy yourself. I got you like, two hours of whatever treatments you want. Didn't know if you were a Swedish massage type of girl or if you'd prefer the mud bath, so I left it up to you. I'll be up here taking in the view and performing my secret pre-gig good luck rituals."

She sat up and grabbed her bag, rummaging around for a while then handing over a small envelope with Bonnie's name on it.

"You're not coming with me?" Bonnie asked, surprised. She wanted to protest about the spa treatments but she also didn't want to appear ungrateful and honestly the intimidatingly extravagant hotel suite was leaving her feeling pretty wrong footed and dazed, even more so than the hotel lobby had.

"I don't like people touching my skin." Marcy replied quietly. Abruptly there was an unreadable blank look on her face and she wasn't quite able to meet the redhead's eyes. When she smiled again it seemed a little forced and a bit distant, like Marceline was watching something in her mind's eye that was momentarily more real for her than the fancy hotel suite. "Go on, they'll be waiting for you. I might get better acquainted with one of those rather magnificent looking baths. Be back by six, we've got dinner booked in the swanky restaurant downstairs."

And she bounced up from the bed and all but pushed the other girl towards the door, wide grin firmly back in place but not quite managing to look completely normal.

Marceline waited for a count of a hundred heartbeats after the door clicked closed behind Bonnie then carefully unbuttoned her shirt, shrugging out of her clothes with a wince and turning to look over her shoulder in the full length mirror. She examined her skin critically, eyes raking over every line and bump for signs of the inflammation she was certain must be there. It was terribly itchy, nothing she could do about that but carefully bathe it and apply her special moisturiser. Hope it had soaked in enough for her to be fully dressed and able to function normally by the time Bonnie returned.

The skin didn't look any different from usual but it felt tight and hot, like it was pulling uncomfortably every time she moved her shoulder. But there was no sign of infection so that must be just in her head like usual. Since the unpleasant scene with Mo the day before it had burned and itched insistently. She'd been up most of the night checking it and carefully moisturising it but the pain didn't go away. Not when every time she closed her eyes she could see the aggression in Mo's face again and the way his big hands balled into fists when she told him it was none of his business who she kissed.

She'd had a fair amount of physical therapy and surgery over the years and there was no contracture of the skin to speak of anymore. Her back was just as soft and pliant now as it had ever been. There wasn't even anything to see at a casual glance, just a thin girl with a sheet of very long dark hair and a lot of tattoos standing frowning in the mirror at her exposed skin. Soft pink roses covered most of her left shoulder and halfway up the side of her throat. They spread in a stylised spray down and across both shoulder blades and the tops of her arms before fading into a tangle of thorns halfway along her back. Loose petals drifted down over her ribs and one or two brushed the top of her left hip like they'd been blown free by the breeze. Beneath the roses a beautifully realistic grey wolf was curled fast asleep on a bed of more petals, surrounded by the protective thorns that would forever shield him.

It was a magnificently detailed piece of body art. She'd gone to an internationally award winning tattoo artist on her eighteenth birthday to have it done and been more than pleased with the result. There was no obvious difference between the tattoo and the uninked sections of her body, even if someone looked closely. It was only when Marcy ran her fingertips across it that she could feel that the skin beneath the beautiful body art was a little warped and uneven, slightly fragile and a little too thin. And at the moment it was dry and itchy and felt maddeningly hot.

Marceline ran herself a lukewarm bath and added a generous amount of the special scented oils she used when her skin bothered her too much. She'd misjudged the water and almost had a panic attack when she dipped one toe in; it was too warm and she absolutely couldn't bear too much heat against any part of her body. Breathing deliberately slowly to keep her anxiety at bay she added more cold water before testing it gingerly with an elbow and finally letting herself slide into the now cool bathwater. The itching in her shoulders disappeared almost instantly and she relaxed into the cool water with a relieved sigh. She was a very long way away from anyone who made her feel uncomfortable; she had a whole evening alone with Bonnie to look forward to and after that a really awesome gig to play. For the first time in days Marcy let herself really relax.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright so I'm ruining the surprise. But I can't post this chapter without the disclaimer that it features very graphic descriptions of lady sex. So if you're not cool with that then you should go read something else, this chapter is one of the reasons this fic is rated M. I wrote the first draft and my girlfriend was like 'alright I love it but it needs to be more filthy' so blame her entirely. Also expect a small crumb of backstory, a couple of people have said they think they know where I'm going with certain bits of plot and they're about to discover if they were right. This chapter and the next one will explain some stuff (mostly the next one). Also review if you want, I tend to read my reviews when I'm getting ready for work and they are often the best thing that happens to me all day. I am literally blushing like a tomato just rereading this chapter, it's not an easy one to share.**

 **Content Warning: Graphic lesbian sex, backstory hinting at pretty nasty historical injuries.**

* * *

"I have to insist you come to the spa with me tomorrow." Bonnie told her later as they sat together at dinner, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Seriously, it's the best thing ever! Even if you just get a foot massage! I didn't know someone else touching my body could feel so amazing. I swear that masseuse has magic fingers."

Marceline had been about to swallow a bite of vegetable stir fry and had to hastily gulp some water to keep from choking. Bonnie stared at her innocently for a second before her face reddened and she looked down at her own food, suddenly embarrassed by her accidental insinuation.

"Oh stop it, you know I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, between you and Finn I feel like I'm surrounded by total perverts." she mumbled around her blush.

"You're the one who said it!" Marcy gasped, still shocked that something so unintentionally filthy had come out of her sweet friend's mouth. "And I told you earlier. I really don't like anyone touching my skin."

"Maybe you've just never had a good massage then? You should try it, I bet even you'd enjoy it." Bonnie pressed.

Marcy avoided the redhead's gaze and stared down at her dinner instead. She wished the other girl would just take the hint and drop it. She couldn't think of a polite reply and began shovelling food into her mouth with her chopsticks as a distraction instead.

"Slow down, you don't need to be at the venue till eight." Bonnie reminded her, confused by the sudden change of atmosphere.

"M'hungry." Marceline grunted between bites, staring intently at her plate.

"Alright then." Bonnie said quietly. She turned her attention back to her own food and they finished dinner in a somewhat tense silence.

By the time they'd eaten, changed, double checked the equipment and navigated the unfamiliar roads to arrive at the venue it was already nearly eight. Marceline had to hurry backstage to finish getting ready and run a quick sound check. She pressed a hasty kiss onto Bonnie's cheek before dashing off to the dressing rooms and leaving her to explore the cavernous club alone. The redhead's whole face throbbed pleasantly for a good few minutes after she'd left. Bonnie was glad Marceline couldn't see the way she turned bright crimson at the contact even if the few other early arrivals peered at her curiously as they passed.

She wandered around the venue for a while and watched the people who were starting to filter in to see the up and coming talent gig and critically examined the various promotional posters that were plastered lopsidedly above the long bar. The two serious faced men in expensive looking suits and cheaper looking tattoos must be the record label talent scouts, she decided. Most everyone else appeared to be a student or local kid; there didn't look to be many people over thirty five. As far as anthropological studies went it was pretty dull. The citizen of the north didn't appear to be any different from Londoners really, just their accents were a little hard to make out at times. Like almost every dedicated music venue she'd ever been to Bonnie discovered that the drinks were horribly overpriced so instead she sipped from a plastic glass of chilled water. She winced at the way her feet stuck to the tacky floor when she tried to move.

She'd managed to pick a really good spot to watch from since she was one of the first people there. She was right above the sound desk so her view wasn't obscured by anyone else and she didn't have to risk getting too badly jostled if the crush of spectators got worked up by the music. But she stopped watching the crowd and focussed on the stage when the first band came out from their dressing area, yelling loudly to the audience and messing around for an unforgivably long time before they even thought about playing a song. Bonnie could almost hear Marceline's voice in her head calling them a bunch of fucking amateurs. She snorted to herself and silently agreed.

They really sucked. There was no nice way to say it, they were just plain terrible. Boring songs, no discernible tune to their music and the singer seemed to think he was Mick Jagger despite the overwhelming evidence that he definitely wasn't. It was vaguely embarrassing watching him gyrate his hips around and pout at the audience. The crowd mostly just stared back at him blankly and applauded politely but unenthusiastically at the end of each song. That was probably why they'd been made to go on first, Bonnie reasoned. She was relieved when they finally left the stage, still shouting some rubbish about being gods of rock, and the next singer came on instead. There were a few different acts playing so Bonnie was forced to wait until the very end of the gig to see Marceline again and most of the other bands that played that night didn't have much talent to speak of. The minute they left the stage Bonnie forgot about them, although she did grudgingly accept that she was probably a bit biased. But when a single spotlight illuminated Marcy in the centre of the stage and she smiled her slow, heart stopping smile out at the crowd Bonnie forgot all about her impatience with the other musicians. Forgot about everything but staring captivated at the beautiful girl on the stage holding her guitar almost a little shyly.

"Good evening, Newcastle! I can't tell you how wonderful it is to be here tonight, I came all the way from London to have the honour of meeting you all this evening. I'm Marceline Petrikova and this first song is especially for my chauffeur, the loveliest chauffeur north of Watford." Marceline grinned into her microphone. The crowd cheered, thinking it was a joke. Well it was. Just not intended for them. Bonnie felt her cheeks heat up yet again when a few moments later she realised that Marcy was dedicating the song to her.

Oh, it was that French song that she'd played in the pub back in London. Bonnie smiled fondly, remembering that she'd meant to look up the words. And it worked so beautifully on guitar too, especially as Marcy had chosen to wear a figure hugging vest again tonight which showed off her gorgeous rose tattoos to full advantage and matched really nicely with the lyrics. They were about pink roses too as far as she could make out. As she had the last time Marcy had sang Bonnie stood mesmerised by that silky smooth voice.

It was an eclectic mix of tunes that Marceline chose to play; some much faster numbers and a fair few ballads. Mostly they were her own compositions with a few well known covers thrown in and decidedly less punk heavy than her gig with the Screams had been which Bonnie thought suited her voice better. It was certainly a more practical decision if she was serious about getting signed. At the end of her set the crowd cheered her on for an encore and Marceline ended up playing three more songs to rapturous applause. The smile on her face was so warm it felt to Bonnie like she was radiating sunshine and the redhead couldn't keep from grinning too.

Afterwards the academy was going to host a rock night which neither of them were terribly interested in staying for so Bonnie waited breathlessly outside the rear entrance of the building for Marceline to emerge. When she finally did Bonnie flung herself at her, hugging her friend eagerly and beaming from ear to ear, entirely caught up in the infectious enthusiasm of the night.

"You were amazing! Everyone loved you! Oh man, did you not hear how they were cheering for you in there? God, I see what you mean, you don't need a band! You're absolutely amazing all by yourself!"

Marcy smiled a little shyly and ducked her head, suddenly demure in the face of such glowing praise.

"Glad you enjoyed it, dork. Been ages since I played a gig on my own, it's a nice change of pace. You wanna hit up some better clubs tonight or do you need to get some rest for all that driving tomorrow?"

Bonnie made a face; she didn't enjoy clubs much as a rule and she did have a lot of driving to do tomorrow, but the way Marceline said it made it sound like she could think of nothing worse than an early night.

"We should probably try to get some rest." Bonnie replied reluctantly, certain she was going to get called a dork or worse again.

"Thought you might say that. Come on then, you might have time for another massage if we get up early enough tomorrow."

The roads were pretty much empty and it was a quick drive back to their hotel. Marceline hummed the song about the roses all the way there, tapping her feet happily and smiling self-consciously every time she caught Bonnie's eye. In a few more minutes they were closing the door to their suite and she was beaming unrestrainedly, bobbing up and down a little with a nervous energy. If she wanted to be totally honest it didn't have much to do with the amazing gig except that the rush she got from performing made her feel temporarily fearless.

"Something I probably should have mentioned before now," Marceline said softly to Bonnie's turned back, "is that I get a real buzz from being on stage. While the adrenaline's up I feel invincible, like I could do literally anything, get away with anything. It makes me kinda crazy. I mean, in a good way I think."

"Oh? How do you mean?" Bonnie asked, confused. She was still a little mesmerised by the other girl, still watching her from the corner of her eye like Marcy was a bit magic. Suddenly Bonnie was hyper aware that they were alone together in their unfeasibly expensive suite and that from the outside it could look a lot less than innocently platonic. Her heart began to trip a little faster even as she told herself to stop being an idiot.

"Like, it makes me feel so much braver than usual and I wanna tell you stuff. Stuff I've never said out loud to anyone, ever. Or even to myself, really. Not properly, like, out loud."

Bonnie's heart quickened again. She could feel it beginning to hammer against her ribs. It couldn't be what it sounded like, she was being an idiot again, she must be.

"Like what?" she asked in a slightly strained voice, not quite able to force herself to turn around and look the other girl in the eyes. Instead of replying Marceline grabbed hold of her hand and spun her so they were face to face anyway, almost too close. That same kind of look that she'd had the night they'd been at the hospital together was back in her eyes but it was less restrained than ever and the expression on her face was exultant and somehow a little wild.

"Ok. Even with post-gig euphoria this is kinda hard for me to say. So, uh, yeah. Here goes. Bon?" she looked the other girl in the eye, biting her lip nervously and fidgeting with the edge of the redhead's sleeve where she still held it in strong slim fingers. Bonnie thought her heart might actually explode from the anticipation. It was beating so fast she felt a little dizzy and she was almost shivering from the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"Yeah?" she managed to squeak in reply.

"I, uh, I think I'm probably gay. Like, really really gay. And I like you. Like, I gay like you. Like, I wanna do gay stuff with you? I think I have a crush on you, actually. Like, I kinda, I... maybe, if you wanted to, I mean, um- ah fuck it."

Marceline pulled her forward and pressed an enthusiastic kiss against her lips, justifying it to herself that she was saving the other girl from having to stammer out an equally awkward reply. She sighed happily when Bonnie kissed her back, sliding even closer so that their bodies were pressed together so tightly that she could feel the redhead's heartbeat where their chests touched. Marceline thought hazily that she might never have felt anything quite so amazing in all her life, it was even better than when the audience cheered her name.

She tensed but didn't have time to pull away before warm hands slid up and under her vest and brushed the warped skin on the middle of her back. She'd forgotten, hadn't thought about the damn tattoo or how to explain it. Bonnie broke off from the kiss with a gasp.

"Your skin-"

"Scars. Please, it's not a big deal. There was a fire and I got burned but it's healed now. It was ages ago, it's not important."

"Jesus- are you ok? Do you wanna talk about it?"

Marceline examined those wide blue eyes, so close to her own, filled with horror and sympathy instead of the anxious desire that had clouded them moments before. She'd had enough sympathy to last a lifetime and the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, driving her insane and making her feel intensely reckless. All at once she was completely certain she wanted to do something much scarier and more wonderful than talk about her scars; anything at all in the world but talk about her scars.

"I can think of nothing I'd like less. How about instead of talking about really awful stuff we try out that magnificent looking king size bed instead?"

Bonnie pulled back a little more and looked her in the eye searchingly again.

"Wait, what? Are you sure that's something you wanna jump right into? I mean I'm not saying no, but it's kinda a big deal for me."

"Mm, lemme think about it. You're not just absolutely gorgeous, you're a really lovely person too. You took the time to get to know me, you make me feel like I can safely be myself around you which yeah not a lot of people do. You've been nothing but emotionally supportive and there for me when I needed you and _yes,_ God, I would really like to if you would too. I've been trying to actually properly date you for weeks. That's why I kept taking you on all those dates. We're consulting adults, right? We can do whatever we want. And right now I'm about to actually die from the wanting, you make me feel just a little bit nuts too."

"You're not gonna disappear on me tomorrow? I don't deal well with abandonment." Bonnie murmured, looking a little dazed from the abrupt confession. But she wasn't saying no and she didn't seem unwilling, she only wanted to be sure of what they were getting into before anything else happened. That was reasonable, Marceline thought. A little over analytical given their current situation but then Bonnie was nothing if not scarily practical.

"Hell no. I'm not the disappearing type. I really want to keep seeing you. I mean, if you want to keep seeing me? If not then I guess I'd like to keep hanging out as friends at least. If this is just a tonight thing."

"Are you asking if I wanna be your girlfriend?"

"Mm, maybe? Is that a yes? Cause if it's a yes then definitely, I'd love to be your girlfriend. I mean, if you want to. No pressure."

Bonnie grinned then, brightly and without restraint. The joy on her face was genuine and it made Marceline grin too, overwhelmingly happy and willing to do almost anything to keep the redhead smiling like that. Bonnie's smile was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen.

"Then yes, I would very much like to try out that magnificent bed with you, and see you again. If you wanna be my girlfriend I'd be very ok with that."

Bonnie was still smiling as she leaned in to continue the amazing breathless kissing. She only broke contact for the brief second it took to slide her shirt up and over her head as they moved back towards the bed and tumbled onto the sheets together. Somehow she had wound up with her hands against the warm skin of Marceline's stomach; she wanted to kiss her there too and with a surge of deep warmth realised there was no good reason not to. She bent her head and let her lips ghost unhurriedly across the other woman's smooth skin, whisper soft and teasingly slow.

"Do you know-" she mumbled between kisses- "that I have been thinking about this since the day I met you? And I've gotta tell you, fantasy has nothing on reality."

Marcy would have replied but Bonnie's lips had found her hip bone and it was all she could do not to bite her own tongue when the other girl's teeth grazed ever so gently against her. An overwhelming sensation that she couldn't even begin to name spiked through her and she gasped instinctively. Her head tipped back into the pillows against the intoxicating feeling and muscles tightened convulsively. Bonnie stopped and looked up curiously, slowly running her finger tips across the spot she'd just carefully bitten and watching the expressions on Marcy's face breathlessly.

"God, you're so gorgeous. I could do this for hours." she murmured in fascination. Marceline just moaned softly in reply and tangled her hands in the other girl's hair, pulling her lips back down to her aching skin.

"Bonnie, please." she begged, not even sure what she was asking for but certain that if she didn't get it she would definitely die from needing it.

"Please?" Bonnie replied teasingly against her skin. "Please what? Please stop?"

"No, no- please, don't stop, don't-"

She never finished begging. The redhead had drifted her finger tips a little lower to trace along the waistband of Marcy's jeans, letting the other girl feel the warmth from her hands before slowly popping the button open.

"You're absolutely sure?" Bonnie asked again, this time deadly serious. "You want this? Like, all of it?"

Marcy nodded yes, biting her lips again and too nervous to speak.

"If you're sure..." Bonnie trailed off, dipping her head again to kiss the exposed skin that had been covered by the tight fitting jeans. Marcy's eyes nearly rolled back into her head when Bonnie hooked her hands into the belt loops of the jeans and slid them deftly down and off. She made a small noise of pleased surprise at what she found.

"You're very ready, aren't you?" she murmured running her hands smoothly up Marcy's thighs until her fingertips were gently caressing the edges of her red panties. Marcy whimpered again and arched her back to meet the touch teasing ever so slowly across her thighs. Instead of letting her fingers connect with the aching skin Bonnie instead dipped her head again and pressed a soft kiss there; breathless at the pulse of sensation that shot through her too when her lips connected with the thin cloth and achingly sensitive skin beneath. She was rewarded by Marceline jerking like an electric bolt had run through her and yelping in mingled shock and pleasure.

"Last time I'm gonna ask." Bonnie mumbled in a voice thick with need. "You're certain you want me to do this?"

"Yes! Please, oh God, you're killing me!"

"And you'll tell me to stop if I do anything to hurt you or you change your mind?"

"Please, Bon-"

"I need you to tell me you want it. Consent isn't optional. I won't do anything unless you let me know that's what you want."

"Yes! Please!"

Bonnie nodded, satisfied, and slid her hands a little further up Marcy's thighs to slip under the waistband of the panties and send them to join the jeans in a heap on the floor. Then maddeningly slowly, with deliberately exaggerate care, she lowered her head again and let the other girl have what she'd been begging for. Hands twisted their way into her hair and a slow moan escape Marcy's lips at the new sensation. She ran her hands over as much of that wonderfully soft skin as possible, up Marcy's arms and across her stomach, under the slim vest she was still wearing to feel the way her muscles contracted with every move of Bonnie's lips. Long before she was really convinced she'd found her perfect rhythm Bonnie felt those lithe muscles tighten under her hands and the fingers wrapped in her hair clench tighter. She sighed joyfully against the other girl's skin as unrestrained cries began to thicken the air and sweetness flooded against her lips.

...

Much later they lay tangled together in nothing but the sheets and each other's arms. Marcy lifted her head and claimed that same talented mouth again for a languid kiss.

"Mm, would you think it's a bit gross if I said I like the way I taste on your lips?" she asked drowsily, unable to keep the lazy smile or faint blush from spreading across her face.

"Nah, I like it too." Bonnie replied with an equally sated grin.

Marceline laid her head back down on her girlfriend's chest and sighed blissfully.

"Don't think I've ever felt this happy before." she mumbled. "Not all at once. I had no idea gay sex was gonna be like that. If I'd known I'd have probably come out and just accepted who I was sooner."

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked curiously. She gave in to another of her fantasies sliding her fingers slowly through the other girl's hair which turned out to be just as wonderful as she'd always imagined it would be. Marcy flushed a little more and snuggled closer, hiding her face against Bonnie's neck.

"I, uh, sorta meant to tell you but we got… distracted. I've sorta, um, kinda never done anything like that before. With anyone. I mean, I never even kissed a girl until tonight."

Bonnie goggled at her, lethargy forgotten in the wake of such a huge revelation.

"Nobody? Not even with boys? That stupid ex-boyfriend you told me about? Wait, did I just take your virginity?" she asked in mounting horror.

"Erm… perhaps, yes? But it's not a big deal, right?"

"Marcy! That's a huge deal! I'm so sorry, baby! I should have been gentler, I should have asked like a million more times if you were ok with it, I-"

Marcy deftly cut her off with another kiss.

"It was amazing and you're amazing and I couldn't be happier and I want to do the same thing back to you, again, right now. Ok?"

Bonnie just nodded, then frowned a little when her brain caught up with her ears.

"Wait, do it again? Now? Are you sure? It's-" she glanced at the clock- "one in the morning. And we have a long drive tomorrow."

Marcy stretched and smiled at her deviously, eyes alight with sudden mischief.

"I guess that's something that could happen. Or, how about I pay for another night and we stay here until Monday and you just call in sick to uni. Because let's face it, students never go to lectures anyway and we can just stay here naked together for the whole of tomorrow. Not gonna lie, that could well be the best plan I've ever come up with." Marceline murmured with a wicked smile. Bonnie wavered visibly, caught between the lure of staying to explore her delicious new girlfriend more and not missing classes. Marcy let her think about it for all of ten seconds before she rolled her eyes and made a decision for them both.

"Oh look at that, you ran out of time. Looks like we're staying another night!"

Marceline slid out of bed and padded across the room, still casually naked, grabbed her bag and fished her phone out. She frowned when she saw she'd had four missed calls from Mo and an angry message asking where she was and why she wasn't answering her door or phone. She hadn't told him she was going away for the weekend, it was none of his damn business where she went or who with. She ignored the message and instead rang the number for the hotel reception desk.

"Hello, yes, we're in the Ark Royal Suite and we'd like to extend the stay for another night. Just charge it to the same card, the details should all be the same. Petrikova, yes that's me. Yeah, like the London Petrikovs. Another night. Lovely, thank you."

She jumped when cool hands slid around her hips and brushed the faint marks left there by shameless lips. Bonnie must have gotten up and sneaked across the room when Marcy was on the phone.

"So we're staying another night then? Guess that means you're gonna have to come back to bed because suddenly I'm not sleepy anymore." Bonnie murmured, reaching up to kiss the taller woman and letting her hands drift lower across her hips again.


	10. Chapter 10

**So people seemed to broadly like the last chapter which is a definite relief, I'm always shy of posting graphic stuff even when it's (mostly?) relevant to the story. And thank you for all your lovely reviews so far, you guys are wonderful! FYI the massage bar is called Tender Is The Night and it's the best thing ever.**

 **Content Warning: more graphic sex. Sorry not sorry. Backstory, off screen character death, fairly graphic injury, drugs references, organised crime.**

* * *

Something was tickling Marceline's ear, something that was warm and yielding and familiar when she reached up to brush it away. It felt kinda like-

Oh, when she opened her eyes and squinted at it the offending object it actually _was_ Bonnie's face, on the pillow next to her own and currently peering at her curiously. Astonishingly blue eyes blinked sleepily at her.

"Morning, gorgeousness. You always pet everyone you sleep with in the face to wake them up?" Bonnie asked raspily, throat still fuzzy from sleep.

"Yep. Every single time I've ever spent the night getting amazingly freaky with anyone I've always woken them up next morning by tapping them in the face. It's like, my tradition now." Marcy replied with an unstoppable grin.

"Mm, like how the road crew always sleep with the band? I really like that tradition even if you totally made it up. That kinda sass is gonna earn you a thorough kissing though." Bonnie mumbled before she made good on her promise and rolled halfway on top of the other girl. She sleepily pressed their lips together and threaded her hands through Marcy's fine dark hair to draw her closer. A moment later Marceline pulled back with a grimace of pain.

"Shoulder." she gasped, grabbing Bonnie's arm and moving it away from where she'd been leaning most of her weight against the fragile skin under the tattoo.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" Bonnie slid off her and back to her own side of the bed, retreating with an absolutely stricken look on her lovely face.

"Hey, it's fine. Just a touch sensitive there, that's all." Marcy soothed, running a hand down the redhead's cheek comfortingly. "You just gotta be careful with the skin on my left side. It's not really… I mean, it doesn't hurt anymore exactly but I'm paranoid about it I guess. Still getting used to being touched there, that's all. Come back and hug me?" she added after a second.

Bonnie snuggled back in carefully, lying as still as possible while the taller girl wrapped her arms around her and wriggled onto one side until she was comfortable.

"You wanna talk about it?" Bonnie asked her quietly. Marcy sighed and rested her face against Bonnie's soft hair. She smelled like coconut and an implacable sweetness. For a moment Marcy just closed her eyes and enjoyed the wonderful new sensation of being skin to skin with another person.

"Not particularly, no. But I know I owe you an explanation and I've had a heap of therapists tell me I should be open and honest about my burn. Not to hide from it or pretend it didn't happen." she replied after a few calming moments.

"Was it something to do with your Dad?" Bonnie asked softly. Her fingertips were slowly tracing along Marceline's throat and she felt the other girl's pulse jump anxiously at the question.

"Yeah, it was." Marcy breathed after a second. "I told you my Dad killed my Mum. He had her killed, actually. He made sure he was way across town with a ton of witnesses when it happened. He killed my Aunt and brother too but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean for them to be involved. It was Mum he wanted to hurt."

"Was Marshall your brother?"

"Yeah. Guess I pretty much gave that one away in the car yesterday." Marcy nodded. "I was having a nightmare about it, about the fire. I do most nights at least a bit. Keep waiting for it to get easier with time but so far it hasn't. If anything it's worse now because I understand what happened and why so much better."

Bonnie held her more tightly, stroking comfortingly across her hip.

"Marshall and Dad were really close, he was older than me and you know how the Old Moscow crowd are about the Son and Heir stuff. Or well maybe you don't. I forget not everyone grew up in a Russian immigrant gangster family. Well Dad had pretensions of being a big name on the East End organised crime scene. Drugs, money laundering, people trafficking, that sorta thing. Mum had been a pretty well-known model before she made the mistake of marrying him and he kept her locked up like she was some kind of house pet. She used to say it was a regular Beauty and the Beast love story. I guess she was right; he was abusive and inhuman and she was naïve and people only valued her for her looks. Dad kept her prisoner so long that she couldn't imagine life without him."

Marceline paused for breath, caught up in memories. He mother had been a complicated woman but she genuinely had loved her father, at least at the beginning of their relationship. Until he started expressing his love more with his fists than his words. But with Bonnie's arms wrapped warmly around her it was almost bearable to talk about her mother, almost cathartic in a way. Marcy took a deep breath and continued.

"My Mum was one of the first mixed-race models to really start making a name for herself, with a little help from her shady connections. We never did know who her mother was. Apparently Granddaddy just turned up with a baby one day and told his wife she was theirs now. Russian immigrant wives don't argue with their gangster husbands if they know what's good for them so my grandmother just adopted her. Once I was old enough to go to school and stuff Mum started going out again, started reconnecting with her old friends and hanging out on the party scene again. Dad hated that. Simon told me later that Dad thought she was having an affair and that the jealousy drove him mad. So one day he arranged for me and Marshall to spend the night at Simon's place then paid some of his grunts to superglue the locks closed on the doors and windows at home and start a fire."

"But you got burned." Bonnie whispered in shock.

"Yeah, Simon was delayed and he was late to collect us. By the time he got there the whole building was pretty well blazing already. He smashed the back door open and rescued me; I was the only one he could reach. My back and shoulder got badly burned when I was trying to pull the lounge window open and the curtain rail fell on top of me. I told Simon that Mum and Marshall were upstairs and he said Betty was getting them. Aunt Betty was his wife, she was really awesome. But when we got outside they weren't there. Then the roof collapsed and I guess all three of them were killed, unless they were already dead. I spent a lot of years trying to work out if they could have already been unconscious from breathing the smoke and stuff. I hope so, don't like to think they felt the burning like me and Simon did. The skin on his hands didn't heal as well as mine. He was holding a blanket around me to keep me from getting more burned and he took most of the damage there. He sacrificed his own hands to keep me safe. Simon's burns were worse than mine, deeper, they damaged the ligaments in his hands. After the fire he couldn't use them as well as before because the skin got too tight and they didn't move as easily. He could still cook and stuff but he couldn't dig on archaeological sites and he couldn't play music very well. So I learned piano and guitar and stuff instead so I could play for him and I went with him on digs all over the world and I was his hands. I think he was just as scared of being alone as I was, we were all each other had left."

"Did your Dad go to prison for the fire?"

Bonnie's eyes were wide with shock and so filled with disturbed horror that it was hard for Marceline to meet her gaze evenly.

"No, they never had enough evidence. Whoever he sent to start the fire was probably back in whatever backwater he'd flown them in from by the next morning so there was no way they'd be able to name him. He went to jail because when the fire fighters and police were looking for the cause of the fire they found hundreds of thousands of pounds of cocaine in a burned out cupboard in the kitchen. I never knew if Uncle Simon set that up or if the moron forgot to move his drugs before he ordered the hit. He's been in jail ever since for drugs charges and stuff but they could never pin the fire on him, there wasn't enough evidence." Marcy finished with a sigh. "Wish they could. It wouldn't really change anything but it'd be some closure, y'know?"

"So your Uncle Simon could have set him up? Was he in the gang too?"

"Sort of, he was kinda born into it. Have you heard of the East End Petrikovs?"

Bonnie shook her head.

"They were an important gangster family a couple of decades ago. My Granddaddy moved to London when he was young and set it all up. The call themselves the family but really they're a group of extended families who all work together. My godfather Bolshakov is part of the family too but he went to jail when Dad did. His son is my ex-boyfriend. I mean we only went out a couple of times when he needed a date for various family functions and stuff but if he's like the only person I came close to dating so I kinda count him; besides we did kiss a couple of times. Nice guy, very handsome but as thick as a brick. Simon's a Petrikov too and my Mum was; they both grew up surrounded by the family. But Simon wanted nothing to do with the business or the family. He was an academic and my Granddaddy let him follow that career path if that's what made him happy because he was the Son and Heir. That didn't mean he didn't know where to get his hands on a few hundred thousand pounds of coke in a hurry though because there were always people ready to cut each other's throats to get a better position in the business. I wouldn't have put it past Simon to have arranged the coke to be planted just so he could get back at Dad. Also wouldn't put it past my idiot father to forget to move his drugs before ordering a hit though, it could go either way."

Marcy snorted with old humour but Bonnie just stared at her, appalled.

"I've had years to see the funny side in all this, babe." Marceline reminded her gently. "I was only seven when it all happened. I changed my name legally when I was sixteen so I'm a Petrikov too, now. Well a Petrikova actually, the female form of the surname. I didn't want to be associated with that bastard anymore. Simon's more of a father to me than he ever was, he even put up with my awkward teenage phase. Man, I wish I could apologise to him for all the crap I put him through. When I was about fourteen he met this woman through work and I guess I was scared he was going to abandon me and I'd be alone again. He stopped seeing her because I had a massive tantrum about it. I'm pretty sure I jeopardized his only real adult relationship since he lost Betty. He never complained, not once. Said that if she couldn't accept that parenting me was always going to be his top priority then he didn't want to know her. Simon was there for me for every surgery, therapy session, every gig and parent-teacher conference. Even when I started missing school and stealing stuff when I was a bit older he'd just come bail me out of the police station and tell me he loved me no matter what. He was the best parent I could have ever asked for. Certainly better than my birth father. Dad thought he was making a name for himself by marrying into the Petrikovs but really he just made enemies, I don't regret that I don't know him now. I never even went to see him. I haven't had any contact with him since he came to see me in hospital the day after the fire."

"I suppose I understand that." Bonnie replied quietly. "I still feel awful for you, though. You're braver than anyone I've ever met. I'm so sorry for making you relive it all. I wish I could do something for you, make you feel better somehow."

Marcy shrugged again and grinned wolfishly.

"I can think of one thing you can do to make me feel better."

"Anything." Bonnie replied innocently, completely missing the predatory gleam in the other girl's eyes.

"Well my Dad, as well as being stupid and a murderous scum bag, is also wildly homophobic. I mean, like, really violently, probably has unresolved queer feelings kinda homophobic. I know for a fact he used to go out and beat up gay guys for fun and profit. Back when he was active most LGBT folk were still pretty wary of getting involved with the police and he just loves making queers squeal for him. Like I said, obvious unresolved gay feelings are obvious. But he's locked up and rotting in prison right now and I'm lying naked with you in a big bed that I'm paying for with his money and last night I kissed a girl and I _really_ liked it. And I suppose it might make me feel better if we could do something that would make my Dad have an actual seizure with bigoted horror if he could see it."

Halfway through her little speech Bonnie had caught her meaning and she was blushing in a most delicious way.

"I, um, you want to..? Right now?"

"No time like the present. And we've only got a limited amount of time here and this bed is _glorious."_ Marcy replied impishly. She leaned in and gently kissed along Bonnie's throat and jaw, delighting in the way the redhead shivered in her arms.

"Mmm, you know somehow I doubt I'll mind making you feel better like that." Bonnie murmured in reply as she tilted her head to allow better access for eager lips.

Distantly, as slim talented fingers slid across her hypersensitive skin, Marceline wondered why this sort of heat and touch didn't bother her the way most other kinds did. She was warm, much warmer than she could usually stand, but it was wonderful instead of triggering. She didn't pull away when Bonnie carefully stroked the lines of her tattoo; the wolf she'd designed in Marshall's honour and her mother's favourite roses. Instead she shivered a little and pressed closer into the touch. Closer into that electric pleasure that was so nearly but not quite painful as she moaned her lover's name quietly and arched her back against the warm hands skimming gently against her.

When those same nimble fingers slipped below the sheets to caress the places where Bonnie had kissed her the night before she swore and bucked. She hadn't expected the sudden touch to be so intensely overwhelming. The redhead sucked in a breath and did it again, this time more slowly, teasingly.

"Do you wanna try something new?" Bonnie murmured breathily in her ear. Marcy didn't need more than a second to decide that yes, she really did. She nodded and the other girl smiled. "Tell me to stop if I hurt you or if it's too much for you." she mumbled, and Marcy nodded again.

The pressure that had been moving deliciously against her slid up and down a little, searchingly. Then with a gentle push the tip of one slender finger moved against the slight slick resistance of her body and upwards, inwards, deep to the first knuckle, making her gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. It almost hurt for a moment and she tensed at the feel of it. But the pressure receded slightly after another second and she felt her body relax into the new sensation. The discomfort slowly changed to a softly aching fullness. Bonnie's thumb was rubbing slow circles against her, following the same patterns the redhead's scandalous tongue had danced across her skin the night before. She felt her eyes roll back into her head, overwhelmed.

"M-more. Please." Marcy begged as she bucked against the touch. She was barely able to get the words out around the gasps and moans that slipped helplessly past her parted lips. Bonnie just shook her head gently and smiled.

"Too much at once will hurt, especially if this is new for you. But I can do something else that you might like, if you want?" she replied, eyes almost glowing with delight when Marcy nodded eagerly.

Marceline almost fainted dead away when she felt the touch still gently filling her begin to curl around softly like Bonnie was beckoning her forwards, stroking and massaging slowly. Marceline swore again and squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on the new sensations that washed through her in intense relentless waves.

Through the haze of pleasure Marcy registered that Bonnie had taken hold of her hand and was moving it down between them too. A thrill of amazed shock ran through her when she realised what the other girl was asking for. She carefully began trying to match her movements to mirror what the other girl's devastatingly talented hand was doing; fingers finding places that were already slick and warm for her.

Lips met lips and the sensation was overwhelming. It was all up against her and filling her with that indescribable feeling that pulsed with every curve of the finger and lazy circle traced over and over against her skin. She lost track of time completely as the sensations grew. Heavy breathing and gasps filled the air along with mumbled curses. Bonnie's movements were gradually quickening; increasing the pressure until it was almost unbearable, almost euphoric. Before she could even draw breath as a warning it built to a crescendo and Marcy cried out harshly. She bucked and shuddered against the other girl and clasped her own fingers much more roughly than she'd intended to, making the redhead moan and shiver right along with her. It was like a wave of energy surging all across her; a pleasure too intense for her to process that blotted out all thought beneath its devastating weight.

It seemed to take an age before she was back in control of her own body and before the crashing waves of sensation receded enough for her to be able to think at all. When Marceline regained her senses Bonnie was whimpering with desire and grinding gently against her hand. She wrapped one arm around the other girl's shoulder and rolled them over so she was on top; intending to try out every single new thing she'd just learned. She flushed with delighted satisfaction when she realised how ready the other girl already was for her.

...

"This is so weird." Marcy said quietly without opening her eyes.

"Weird in a bad way?" Bonnie asked worriedly.

"No, just... weird. I'm not used to someone else doing it to me. I usually have to just figure out an angle that works on my own. But it feels so nice, don't you dare even think about stopping."

Bonnie didn't reply. She just kept on gently massaging the fragile skin of Marceline's tattoo with the wonderfully scented massage bar she'd been given. It was a creamy solid that looked like a bar of soap but melted in the heat of her hands and coated them in a vanilla and jasmine scented body butter that was apparently wonderfully good for scars.

"This smells too nice to be from a doctor." Bonnie said after a moment. "Where'd you get it? Some exclusive hippie boutique in Covent Garden?"

Marcy laughed lightly and Bonnie didn't even try to fight the swell of affectionate warm that ran through her at the sound. She didn't think she'd ever get sick of hearing that silvery laugh.

"It's from Lush! You don't recognise it? Cause I know for absolute certain I smelled one of their products on your hair and if you like organic fair trade hair stuff you really must see my bathroom. I take hair care very seriously. Sometimes I quite like giving myself elaborate braids. Takes me hours." Marceline added proudly.

"I can't decide if that's vain or just a bit dorky." Bonnie teased gently.

Marcy just shrugged.

"We can't all have glorious natural copper hair that looks amazing all the time like you do. I had to get creative to make mine look good."

They'd compromised, because no matter how Bonnie had pleaded Marceline absolutely refused to go to the spa and have anyone who wasn't her girlfriend or the same trusted dermatologist she'd seen since she was burned touch her skin. Bonnie hadn't needed much more invitation than that; she wasn't going to pass up a perfect opportunity to look closer at the beautiful tattoo. It was designed so intricately that every line and shade of it followed the twisting scar pattern and blended it to complete invisibility behind the artwork. Bonnie didn't even want to think about how much a tattoo that grand must have cost or how painful having it inked onto damaged skin must have been.

There was a knock on the door and she stood to answer it reluctantly.

"Room service!" a cheerful voice called from the corridor. It was the same tall man who'd checked them in the day before. He smiled widely as his eyes took in the obvious disarray of Bonnie's hair and the fact she was dressed in a robe from the bathroom in the middle of the afternoon. Luckily he said nothing about it; just handed over the tray of food they'd ordered and tipped her a wink.

"I think the porter knows we've been fucking in here." Bonnie murmured as she placed the tray on the end of the bed and shrugged out of the robe then slid under the sheets next to Marceline.

"And? It's an executive suite. I don't even want to think about how many couples have been fucking in here. Besides since you deflowered me and we're now essentially married in the eyes of our Lord why hide our union?" Marceline added, clasping her hands together piously. Bonnie stared at her.

"Wait, what?" Bonnie stuttered, looking genuinely horrified. Marceline burst out laughing, unable to stay serious for a moment more.

"I'm messing with you! Oh man, you should have seen your face!" she gasped around her laughter.

"So you're not deeply religious?"

"Nope, I'm a strict atheist." Marcy replied, still grinning. "I'm also starving over here, please pass me the rice noodles like a good little wifey."

Bonnie stuck her tongue out but did as she was asked.

They finished their food in comfortable silence and snuggled back under the sheets together afterwards.

"Is it bad that we're literally spending the whole day in bed? You don't wanna go out and explore the city or something?" Bonnie asked after a few quiet minutes of snuggling and increasingly heated stroking.

"Nah, I've been most places before. I know Newcastle pretty well and it's a fun city but not worth missing being naked with you for." Marcy replied with a smile. They were laying face to face, close enough that she could count the golden freckles on the redhead's cheeks if she wanted to. "But they have got a pretty cool science museum. I promise next time we're up here I'll take you to see it."

"Really? Awesome." Bonnie said with her eyes suddenly lighting up. "They have a pretty famous genetic research institute at the university, too. I'm thinking of applying to do my PhD there after I graduate in the summer but I don't like the idea of being so far away from home."

"Don't move north, I'll miss you too much." Marcy said with a sad frown.

"You could come with me."

"Can't leave Simon behind." she replied softly.

"I don't want to come up north anyway. I'd much rather stay in London, with you." Bonnie said, sliding closer and gently kissing the other girl. Marceline shivered a little and pulled her closer still, pressing them together and burying her face in Bonnie's shoulder.

"Just don't leave me behind when you're a world famous geneticist and curing cancer and cloning sheep all over the place." she murmured against Bonnie's soft skin. "I don't deal well with abandonment either."

Maybe they should have made it out of bed but exploring the city didn't seem anywhere near as attractive as exploring each other.


	11. Chapter 11

**Darkness warning for things that are about to get unpleasant. You know the story description is rated M for sex and violence? You already read the sex. No graphic violence in this chapter but it will happen eventually.**

 **Shoutout to all my AMAZING reviewers, you guys are THE BEST. Honestly, I love you all. To the anon who asked if BMO is a Muslim because he has an accent; I actually saw him as a Muslim boy because Mo is an accepted shortening of Mohammed, because diversity is awesome and because there's a large Muslim population in London and representation is important. We need more POCs, more minorities, more trans people, more real life diversity in our literature. So I wrote some.**

 **Content Warning: nudity, anxiety attacks, veganism, mild references to mob violence.**

* * *

"We're never gonna get checked out if you keep being so distracting."

"Me? How am I doing anything distracting? You're the one being sexy."

"How is packing my bag even a bit sexy?"

"Well it's about as sexy as anything I'm doing. I'm just sitting here."

"In nothing but your panties!"

"And? It's just a human body, everyone has one and it's nothing to hide. You're such a pervert, Bon."

Bonnie was going to stick her tongue out and come back with a clever retort but Marceline smiled her most devious smile at her and stretched languidly across the bed. She secretly delighted in the way the other girl's eyes followed the soft lines of her body as she moved. Bonnie sighed and shook her head fondly then leaned across and pressed a deft kiss against the warm skin of Marcy's throat.

"Put. Some. Bloody. Clothes. On... oh..."

She'd punctuated each word with a kiss; trailing higher and higher until the last one landed on the other girl's lips and lingered there for much longer than was actually necessary to make her point. Whatever that had been. She'd forgotten somewhere around the fourth or fifth kiss. Something about not being naked which couldn't be right because so far as Bonnie was aware there was nothing she preferred over a naked Marcy, literally nothing. All thoughts of bag packing forgotten she slid down into the other girl's lap and they continued to kiss breathlessly. Warm hands slid up and over that amazingly soft skin to tangle in the dark cascade of hair that fell all the way down Marcy's back. The dark haired girl slipped her own hands up and under the shirt Bonnie had only just reluctantly put on, stroking her chest and making her breathing hitch and-

"Housekeeping!" a cheerful voice from outside the door called along with a loud knocking and the slight squeak that told of a handle about to be turned.

"DON'T COME IN!" Marcy yelled in panic as Bonnie broke away from her. She scooted back across the bed and turned brilliantly red in the face again.

"Alright, I'll give you a minute to dress! If you want fresh towels just let the front desk know and old Starchy'll bring 'em up for you."

"Right! Thanks! Um, please leave!"

Despite her obvious embarrassment Bonnie was shaking with silent laughter. Marceline grinned at her sheepishly and tugged the bed sheet up from where it was crumpled around her bare legs to at least cover her chest.

"I'll, er, put some clothes on. We need to go get checked out." she mumbled, embarrassed.

As tempting as it was to just stay there for days more Bonnie refused to entertain the idea of missing more uni work and she was dreading discovering what kind of mess Lydia had left in the kitchen while she'd been away. She was still a little sad to slide the key card back across the front desk when they check out though. She'd very quickly overcome her discomfort at staying in such a luxurious hotel. She supposed that was probably Marcy's fault; it was really difficult to feel self-conscious around the other girl for too long. She was just too damn charming. She made Bonnie forget all about her discomfort when she smiled at her so brightly that it was like staring at the sun.

It was a much more pleasant journey home than the drive north had been; the atmosphere was much more relaxed. Bonnie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other threading distractedly through Marceline's hair; unwilling to give up the closeness of the last couple of days until she absolutely had to. Distantly she wished she could curl up with Marcy on the back seat and let the car drive itself. That would be so much better than having to keep her eyes on the road and miss all those little smiles and gorgeous tiny expressions that flitted across the other girl's face. There was a word for what she was feeling. She could feel it trying to form behind her lips but she bit it back with a self-conscious shake of her head. They'd been officially an item for two day and Bonnie was not even going to entertain being such a terrible lesbian stereotype and expressing that particular sentiment just yet. No matter how badly she wanted to yell it from the rooftops. Still it refused to go away completely and lingered unspoken on her lips. It coiled through her with every heartbeat, just waiting for a second's inattention to spill traitorously out of her mouth. She knew she'd have to be extra careful with what she said until she could be certain how the other girl felt. Nothing scared new girlfriends away more effectively than dropping that word too early and Bonnie would never forgive herself if she did anything to ruin things between them. For now it would just be her secret, glowing warm and safe in her chest every time Marceline smiled at her or touched her skin.

...

Around midday they stopped for lunch at a service station. Marcy ordered her habitual plate of plain rice and some lightly steamed veggies from the faux Chinese cafe in the crowded food court after carefully checking they were cooking it without animal products.

"Do you ever miss non vegan food?" Bonnie asked curiously as Marceline tucked into her vegetables with the kind of delight most people reserved for things like chocolate or expensive wine. Marcy paused, contemplating the strip of carrot she was holding between her plastic chopsticks with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Not really, no. I haven't eaten meat since I was seven. I gave it up after the fire. It's amazing how much you don't wanna eat burned flesh after you've literally smelled yourself cooking like that. I use to eat fish for a while because the smell didn't cause post-traumatic stress flashbacks but I screamed the house down the first time Simon tried to feed me chicken soup. Anything with meat in it just smelled too much like how my skin smelled after I got burned and I was so messed up about it. Traumatised. You know I was functionally mute for the first few months afterwards? I'd only talk to my teddy bear; Simon used to have to ask Hambo if I wanted lunch or something and I'd make him reply in Hambo's voice. Anyway, in my teens I went fully vegan. I developed this awful phobia of contributing to anyone's pain in any way and some kid at school told me about how much it hurts for the cows to get milked and how they have their babies stolen from them so they keep lactating longer. So I just stopped eating animal products completely. Simon took me to a ton of head doctors who tried to convince me that eating animal products was good for me but I've been vegan for years now. I haven't collapsed with anaemia or protein deficiency so I figure I must be doing ok. I have vitamin pills and stuff so I don't get ill. Besides after this long I don't even remember what most of that stuff tastes like anyway. You can get vegan cheese and stuff but it feels like cheating." She shrugged and popped the carrot in her mouth, chewing it with obvious relish.

"Try giving up sugar, that's the really addictive shit." Marcy added around her half eaten food.

Bonnie rolled her eyes, far too used to hearing the same terrible puns from Finn.

"Yeah, I'm practically crack cocaine." she muttered under her breath. Marceline stared at her.

"Um, what? I think I lost context somewhere."

"Sugar is hella addictive?"

"...Yes?"

Bonnie flushed, suddenly mortified because Marceline _didn't know her last name was Sugar_. Oh God, had she never actually told her? How had she ended up spending a dirty weekend in bed with a ridiculously hot and very rich and beautiful gangster's daughter and not even bother to tell her her last name?

"It's just a joke Finn keeps making. Cause my surname's Sugar." Bonnie mumbled, unable to meet the other girl's eyes.

"Oh. Well that explains why you're so damn sweet and why I can't get enough of you." Marceline beamed. Bonnie groaned and rested her head on the cheap plastic table they'd managed to grab in the corner of the busy food court.

"Seriously, do I just have a weird fetish for dating people with a crap sense of humour or something?" she asked.

"Depends. Do your exes have a brilliant sense of humour like mine?"

"Well you and Finn keep making all the same jokes so-"

"Wait, Finn? You dated _Finn_?"

Bonnie looked up in confusion at the sudden shock and jealousy in her new girlfriend's voice.

"Um, yeah. For a few months before he figured out he was trans and we broke up. Now we're back to being just friends because he doesn't wanna date a lesbian and I have zero interest in dating a boy." Bonnie replied in a small voice, unsure what she'd done wrong. Marceline glowered at her for a moment.

"Did you fuck him?" she asked moodily.

"Marcy, c'mon. It was ages before we met, it doesn't matter does it?" Bonnie pleaded quietly.

"It matters to me! Did you fucking fuck him? You fucking did, didn't you?" Marceline accused in a loud voice. People were turning to look at them, whispering to each other and grinning at Bonnie. Someone wolf whistled and she very suddenly couldn't deal with it _at all_ , she was about to have a meltdown. Her breathing was hitching in her chest and her palms were sweaty and tingling. Then without any warning she was outside with no memory at all of bolting from the table; running blindly across the car park until she was wrenching the door of her car open and hurling herself onto the back seat.

 _Slow your breathing slow your breathing slow your breathing slowslowslowslow-_

It didn't work. She was hyperventilating, shaking hard while her vision swam in streaks of confused colour and completely unable to process what had just happened. Bonnie was aware that she was making a high pitched distressed keening sound but she couldn't stop. Couldn't do anything because she was so _fucking stupid, disgusting, broke everything, pushed everyone away-_

The car door opened again and someone slipped onto the seat next to her and pulled her into a rough hug.

"I'm sorry." Marcy whispered against her hair. "I just... I didn't know you'd done stuff with a guy. Another girl I could deal with but Finn's a boy and it doesn't matter if he's trans he's still a boy no matter what his plumbing looks like and it just, yeah, I got jealous. I'm so sorry, babe."

Bonnie didn't know how to reply to that. She just reached up and balled her fists into the other girl's shirt, pulling her closer and hiding her face against Marcy's stomach until her breathing finally slowed a little.

"Have you ever seen a therapist about your anxiety attacks?" Marcy asked softly, rubbing her back soothingly. Bonnie shook her head no. "You should, they really help. Babe I'm so damn sorry. I kinda turn into my Dad a bit when I get jealous. I hate it. I'm so sorry."

"S'ok." Bonnie managed to croak out after a long painful moment.

They sat together like that for a long time, quietly hugging on the back seat while Marceline murmured apology after apology. Eventually Bonnie's breathing returned to almost normal and she risked looking up at the other girl. Marcy met her eyes as gently as she could and stroked her face comfortingly.

"That's how he told me he was transgender. Right after our first time together. He literally rolled off and said it felt wrong and weird and he thought he was a boy not a girl and I made him feel so dirty and wrong, doing that to him in the wrong body. That I made him feel so gross and he was so upset with me. We didn't talk again for months. That's why I'm kinda weird about checking you definitely want it, that's why I asked like a hundred times." Bonnie whispered eventually. "Then I met this other girl, Shoko, and it took me ages to feel comfortable around her and trust her. I finally let her stay the night with me and when I woke up the next morning she'd gone. She'd robbed me and Lydia too. She took everything valuable and disappeared. Guess I'm just an easy person to scam."

Marceline just held her close, still running her hands over the other girl's back in gentle circles.

"You're a wonderful person and you deserve to be happy." she told Bonnie gently. "And you deserve so much better from me than yelling and accusing you in the middle of a crowded service station. I'm so sorry, babe."

"It's ok." Bonnie told her, sitting up a little so she could wrap her arms around Marcy's shoulders. "Really, it is. I should have told you sooner. I just got a shock."

"We ok?" Marcy asked her softly.

"Yeah. We are from my side."

"Mine too. But I'm jealous and weird and I have a temper. I'm damaged and have a ton of traumatic emotional baggage. You're still sure you wanna be my girlfriend?"

Bonnie took a moment to reply, staring at her with a small frown creasing her brow. Marceline held her breath, suddenly worried that maybe the answer wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

"Yeah. I'm sure. If you'll still have me." Bonnie replied eventually. Marceline let her breath out all in a rush them leaned in to kiss her girlfriend again.

"You scared me there." she muttered against Bonnie's lips.

"You deserved it."

"Yeah, I really did."

...

It was late evening when they finally pulled up in front of Marcy's apartment block. She hauled the sound equipment out of the boot of the car and leaned in through the driver's door window to kiss Bonnie.

"Sure you don't wanna come up for a cup of tea?" she asked huskily.

"I'd love to, but I really have to get home. Too much to get sorted for uni tomorrow morning." Bonnie replied regretfully. "But I'll come by tomorrow night if you want? You did promise to show me all your hair care stuff."

"Yeah, we can have a night in with face masks and massages and stuff. I'd love that." Marcy replied. She grinned and leaned back in for another lingering kiss. She was so unwilling to go but also very aware that at any moment Mo might come wandering past and she didn't want to have to deal with him right then. She'd spent a lot of the afternoon trying to figure out how to tell him she had a girlfriend and she'd much sooner not have to do it with Bonnie right there. There was a good chance it would destroy her friendship with the boy but that was just a risk she'd have to take. Marceline had come to the conclusion that she was completely done with pretending to be someone she wasn't. So long as she had Bonnie by her side she almost felt brave enough to come out to the whole world and damn the consequences.

With a last kiss and wistful sigh she turned and lugged the amp back across to the doorway, waving as Bonnie pulled back onto the road and blowing her a kiss as she left. Marcy watched her drive out of sight with a warm mix of longing and elation swirling through her chest. She wished more than ever that they were still in their hotel room miles and miles away from anyone who could interfere or disapprove. With a shrug she hauled the amp up the stairwell to the first floor, juggling her keys and frowning when she found the door was already unlocked. Weird, she must have left it open when she left. It wasn't like her to be so forgetful and she put it down to how badly she'd slept on Friday night. She'd been plagued by old nightmares about the fire and new worries over Simon being ill and Mo acting weird. She was bloody lucky nobody had robbed her while she'd been away.

There was a letter on the rug behind the door when Marceline pushed it open. She struggled down the hall to her bedroom and shoved the amp into a corner before going back to close and lock the door, picking up the letter and frowning at it. It was addressed to Simon and it looked very official but most everyone who had any reason to write to him anymore knew to address letters to her on his behalf. She had no idea who it could be from. Marcy frowned harder and stared at the letter as she made her way through to the gloomy lounge to sink onto the sofa and rip it open.

That was the last thing that happened before her whole world turned upside down. Without any warning at all a voice straight out of her darkest nightmares spoke quietly from the old armchair in the corner of the room, the one furthest from the window that was always half in shadow.

"It's probably from the probation service telling you to expect me."

Marceline's vision swam with horror and turned black around the edges. She dropped the letter like it was on fire. Suddenly she felt light headed, like she was a couple of seconds away from a faint. The tall gaunt figure slowly unfolded itself from the small chair and smiled down at her fondly.

"Hello, Pumpkin. You've grown so much. How about a hug for your old man, then?"

The world tilted, too full of terror and sudden blazing pain, full of that terrible face and those cold eyes staring at her like he expected her to be glad to see him. Like he somehow thought she'd actually come and fucking _hug_ the man who'd murdered her whole family. But then cold logic and survival instinct kicked in belatedly and she stood shakily and let him wrap his arms around her briefly. Marcy remembered what would happen if she didn't play along with his narcissistic games. Her shoulders ached and burned again when he rested his hands against them and she had to repress a shiver at his touch.

"You're so big now, sweetie. You look so much like Claudia." he murmured into her ear. Marceline did shiver with fear then, she couldn't help it. He didn't deserve to speak her mother's name. Underneath the cold terror and pain her hatred of him burned fiercely.

"D-daddy? What are you doing here?" she managed to stutter around the chill terror that felt like it was freezing her breath solid in her chest.

"They didn't tell you? The family were supposed to let you know. I'm a free man now, sweetie. I finally got my conviction overturned. I was wrongly accused and now I'm back, I'm finally free and ready to catch up with my little lady. It's so good to see you again. Are you ok, Marceline? You look a little pale."

"I'm just shocked, Daddy. I'm not upset to see you but, um, but I was just back for a minute to get changed. I have to go, I'm going out to, to meet my b-boyfriend." she stuttered, not looking him in the eye in case he could somehow read from her face that she was lying to him.

"Oh, of course. This must be a big surprise for you if you didn't know I was getting out today. Where's Simon? Got a lot of catching up to do with that old bastard." Hunson replied cheerfully. At least he'd bought her lie.

"Simon's sick, he's in full time care. He's got dementia and he forgets everything. It wasn't safe for him to stay here. It's just me left, I'm alone." she mumbled.

"Shame. We had some old business to discuss. Well now, get yourself changed and get going, I'll still be here when you come back. I'm a free man now, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

Marceline fled to her bedroom, grabbed a sweater from the pile by the door and all but ran out of the apartment block. She raced down the street and didn't slow down until she was on the underground platform, still shaking with fear and gasping for breath.

...

Ash picked up on the second ring. He must have been waiting for her call.

"He's out."

"Yeah, I know. My Dad is too."

They both paused, knowing where the conversation had to lead but unwilling to be the first to voice it. Eventually he sighed and said the words she was dreading to hear.

"So, we're beards again, then?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"This is… I don't even have words for it. Fucking... I just- I can't. Were you seeing someone?"

She paused. Ash was trustworthy, she'd been friends with him her whole life. And he stood just as much to lose from their shared secret being discovered as she did.

"Yeah, I was. A girl." Marcy admitted quietly.

"I thought you might. Yeah. I was seeing someone too."

"You told him about the family?" she asked cautiously.

"Not a fucking word. You?"

"No." Marceline lied after a moment of panic where her brain went completely blank. "I told her that my scars were from a car accident. She knows nothing, she's no risk. The family don't need to know that she even exists. I don't want to think about the kind of disgusting things my father would do to her if he knew."

"Of course. He is one sick bastard." Ash agreed. "Was it serious?"

She swallowed back the sob that wanted to force its way up her throat when he asked that. It was brand new and far too early to say and also the most serious and wonderful relationship in her entire life up to that point. She didn't even know how to articulate how she felt about it, she wasn't sure there was even a word for how she felt about Bonnie.

"I dunno. It was really new, like just this weekend new. She was... perfect. Just, fucking perfect."

Ash breathed out heavily. She could hear the answering sob he was repressing every bit as hard as she was.

"Yeah, Anton was too. He's in Paris doing a major runway, I moved my stuff out of the apartment a couple of days ago. I'm back home again, trapped there with my Dad."

"Was it serious with him?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Maybe? We hadn't talked about it much but, probably. Guess we'll just never fucking know now, will we?" Ash replied in a tight voice full of repressed emotion. "I'll come by your place tomorrow night, bring flowers and the usual shit, make it look real. Try to act like you're glad to see me and not like your whole fucking world just crashed down on your head and crumbled."

He hung up the line without saying goodbye and for a long minute Marceline just stared at her phone. Then she forced herself to tap out a quick message to Bonnie, all the while tasting bile in the back of her throat, with hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white and it was hard to type.

 _hey somethings come up im gonna have to bail tomorrow ill call you when i can im sorry i love you_

Marcy reread it over and over before she reluctantly deleted the last three words and hit 'send'. She turned back to the building behind her and pushed the door open, slipping her phone back into her pocket as she went. She was still numb all over except for her back which burned fiercely with the memory of agony. But the shock was beginning to thaw and give way to anger and terror instead. How dare he just walk back into her life like that and expect her to play the perfect daughter, after everything he'd done, after all those years?

Simon looked up from where he sat in the chair by the window when she came into his room and smiled happily when he saw her.

"Marcy! Is Betty with you?" he asked cheerfully.

"Just me today, Simon. Can I have a hug, please?" Marceline asked around the tears that threatened to push past her iron control.

He stood and shuffled forwards, wrapping his scarred arms around her shoulders almost in exactly the same way he had that terrible night when he'd pulled her out of the fire.

"Is something wrong, darling?" he asked her in a soft tone full of concern. And it was too hard, too much. She couldn't keep back from crying when Simon was asking her so gently what was wrong.

"Hun-Hunson's back and he's ruining my life again!" Marceline sobbed, resting her head against her uncle's shoulder and letting the tears flow. "I finally found someone that made me h-happy and who liked me just for me and now he's out of prison and he's going to destroy it all again!"

"Hunson." Simon growled in a voice of thunder.

"I hate him." Marcy whispered around her shameful sobs.

"I do too, darling. That evil bastard."


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry in advance for how dark this is going to get, this is not a particularly happy chapter. But it is important to the plot. Also if you're wondering 'Musa' is a legit first name and also the genus of plants that bananas belong to, and 'Garda' is the name of the police in the Republic of Ireland. Yep, Banana Guard. There is a reason I've been called the Duchess Of Dork.**

 **A quick word to my reviewers, you guys are brilliant and I'm sorry this is going to make your hearts hurt. To the anon who seemed very surprised that Bonnie has panic attacks; yeah that's actually cannon established. It's not shown very often in the series but remember that time she literally screamed "NO I CAN'T I CAN'T" in German then hyperventilated and passed out? I forget what was happening in that episode but I read that as 'suffers panic attacks'. I figure someone under such a huge amount of social and political pressure is much more likely to be prone to that kinda thing anyway and also I used a little artistic licence because I hate fics where she's basically some kind of sweet and perfect female Jesus. Everyone has character flaws and Mary Sues are boring as hell to write/read about.**

 **Content Warning: sadness, much sadness. Domestic violence, psychological abuse, a lot of swear words.**

* * *

 _Bonnie,_

 _I want to start this by telling you that none of this is your fault, at all, so please don't blame yourself. That weekend together up north was absolutely amazing and I am never going to stop being glad we did that. And I want you to know I'll never forget it either. You're wonderful and under different circumstances who knows how far we could have gone? I hope you understand why I couldn't tell you this face to face, it was just too much._

 _My Dad is back and you know what that means, it isn't safe for me to see you again. He's probably back for good. He got his conviction quashed somehow and the law as it stands means he can't be tried again for the same or similar offences; there's no chance of him going back inside any time soon unless some new evidence about the fire comes to light. My family already died because of him. I won't put you in danger by being around you. I can't let him even know that you exist because I've already told you what he's like and I don't want to be responsible for the terrible things he might do to you if he knew about us. You told me that you don't deal well with abandonment and I hate myself more than I can possibly tell you for having to end things like this. Please believe me when I tell you that this is harder for me than you can imagine and that I'm only trying to keep you safe. I never ever wanted to hurt you._

 _You're a wonderful person, Bon. I want you to be happy but more than anything else I want you to be safe. And you'll never be safe as long as we're involved. I can't see you again no matter how much I want to, I can't be responsible for your death. I'm damaged and I come with the sort of baggage that would leave you in an unmarked grave if they found out about us. Forgive me if you can, or hate me if it's easier. But don't blame yourself because none of this is your fault._

 _Please look after yourself, Bonnie. I care about you more than I know how to tell you. Thank you for an absolutely perfect weekend and a brief holiday in a normal life, it was better than I'd ever imagined it could be._

 _Marcy xxx_

Finn struggled to make out some of the words of the letter, they'd been written in a hand that shook badly and tear stains were very evident on the paper. He wondered if it had been like that when it was delivered or if the tears were Bonnie's. Probably a bit of both, he decided.

"Bon..." he started, but he didn't know what to say so he just trailed off. Bonnie didn't reply except for a broken sob that came out muffled from where she'd burrowed herself under her duvet. "What's all this about? Why is she talking like she's in some cheesy movie?"

"Her Dad is a gangster." Bonnie replied eventually, though her voice was still thick with tears. "He murdered her Mum and her brother and he married into a famous gangster family and he's probably going to murder her too because he's viciously homophobic. So she's broken up with me because she thinks she's keeping me safe."

"Bullshit." Finn spat. "That's so much bullshit! You fell for that? Cause sorry, but that's a really messed up piece of crap to say to get someone into bed. Oh babe, I'm so sorry she tricked you like that. That's the lowest thing I ever heard."

He hugged the prone shape under the duvet hard but the region where Bonnie's voice had come from moved in a way that suggested she was shaking her head at him.

"No, that's what I thought at first. But I googled it and it's all true, every word. It was in the papers. She was just a little kid. Try it, you'll see."

Reluctantly Finn slid his phone out of his pocket.

"What am I googling?" he asked grudgingly.

"Her name. Or just, 'Petrikov', 'fire', 'murder', 'cocaine'."

He did and scanned the first news article that came up, swearing under his breath at the grim details. It was dated fifteen years earlier. Marceline would have been exactly the same age as the little girl in the article with the same first name.

 _EAST END GANGSTER IN FIRE DEATH PROBE_

 _Renowned Columbia Road gangster Hunson Abadeer is tonight behind bars as police try to establish the cause of last week's house fire that killed three members of the suspect's immediate family. His wife, former glamour model Claudia Petrikova aged 34, their son Marshall Abadeer aged 13 and Abadeer's sister in law Betty Petrikova aged 45 all died in the blaze last Tuesday. It also left Abadeer's daughter Marceline Abadeer aged seven and another member of the family hospitalized with extensive burns._

 _Police inquiries are ongoing but it is believed that a large quantity of class A drugs have been found in the property which caught fire in the early evening. Police are treating the blaze as an arson attack and are urging any members of the public with information to come forwards._

 _Abadeer has been remanded in custody awaiting a trial date after being charged with several counts of drug possession, intent to supply and several other drug related offences. A spokesman for the Metropolitan Police said that investigations into the cause of the fire are ongoing. Detective Chief Inspector Musa Garda said house-to-house inquiries were being carried out in the area. He added; "Neighbours acted quickly when they became aware that people were trapped inside and called the emergency services who were tragically unable to rescue the family before the roof collapsed."_

 _"We can confirm that two adults and a child were killed in the house fire on the evening of Tuesday the fourteenth of March and another adult and child were taken to hospital with serious but not life threatening injuries. Their condition has been upgraded from critical to serious and both are believed to be stable and out of immediate danger. The cause of the fire has yet to be established but it is thought to be a deliberate act of arson and the police and fire service are investigating. We would like to hear from anyone who was in the area at the time who may have seen something suspicious."_

Finn let his eyes slide briefly over the rest of the article. It detailed the various other charges and criminal activity Marceline's father had been linked to during his extensive gangster career and her mother's short but successful modelling career before her marriage and retirement from public life at the age of just twenty.

"Maybe it's a coincidence, someone with a really similar name?" he tried, although even Finn knew then that he was grasping at straws. He just didn't want to believe it could be true. It was so bizarre to think that the pretty girl from the pub with the easy smile and warm eyes had been through something so dark when she was just a small child.

"She changed her surname when she was sixteen because she didn't want to have her Dad's name anymore. Try googling her mother. They look almost identical." Bonnie replied distantly.

He did, and sucked in an amazed breath. Staring back from the screen of Finn's phone was a woman who could have been Marceline's twin. They were far too alike not to be a close relatives; both had sweet bronze eyes and long jet black hair. She was pouting seductively from the cover of a magazine where she was stretched out on a beach in a tiny blue bikini, all long legs and heart stopping curves. He could have mistaken them for the exact same person except that the girl in the picture looked a little younger, a little darker in skin tone. She also had a slightly rounder face and she didn't have any obvious tattoos. The date on the magazine cover was nine years before the year her daughter was born. Finn did a quick mental calculation, Marceline's mother had only been eighteen in that picture and already her modelling career was almost over. Briefly he suffered a moment of completely inappropriate jealousy; if Marceline looked anything like the stunning model in the picture when she was undressed then Bonnie was one seriously lucky girl. He pushed that thought away and instead focussed on the fact of what it must all mean along with the newspaper article.

"Jesus." he murmured, convinced beyond all doubt. "Her Dad really did murder her Mum. That's so messed up. No wonder she wants to keep you a secret from him, no fucking wonder she's so messed up about her past. Bon, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

The soft snuffling noises and trembling of the duvet told Finn that Bonnie was crying again. He stretched out and wrapped his arms around as much of her as he could manage, offering what little comfort an awkward hug from an ex could provide. He wanted to be angry at Marceline for hurting his friend. Wanted to hate her because watching Bonnie cry was all kinds of heart breaking for him. But mostly Finn just felt lost and sad for them both.

…

For a few hazy minutes Marcy lay awake in her bed staring blurrily at the cracks in the ceiling and trying to figure out why there was a heavy ache of dread and horror in her chest. Normally she woke up feeling pretty much alright. The years of intensive therapy and strong anti-depressant medication had gotten her more or less back to a normal functioning level although on occasion her PTSD still left her curled into a trembling ball of terror and anxiety for no real reason. She wondered distantly through the clearing mists of sleep why she felt like the old familiar leaden cloak of despair had fallen across her shoulders again. Then she heard a noise from the kitchen and she remembered everything with terrible clarity.

She rolled away, hiding her head under the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut again, willing it all to be some horrible nightmare that she could force herself to wake up from. But the clattering continued and a few minutes later her bedroom door was flung open. Simon had always knocked, always. He'd known how badly she hated having her privacy invaded.

"Good morning, Pumpkin! I made your breakfast, up you get!"

Hunson was wearing her apron over his suit and grinning at her manically across a plate of fried eggs on toast. For one heart stopping moment she thought he was going to throw them at her but he simply placed them on the night stand next to the bed and grinned again then strode out of the room whistling to himself cheerfully. Marcy reluctantly propped herself upright and prodded the eggs unenthusiastically with the fork. It had been years since she'd willingly eaten animal products and even looking at the plate full of slimy eggs made her feel nauseated.

"Not hungry, hm?" Hunson's voice asked from the doorway. He was staring at her suspiciously and blocking the only exit, something Marceline knew for a fact was not an accident.

"Just waking up, sorry Daddy." she mumbled, avoiding his searching gaze. When he still didn't leave Marceline had no choice but to scoop up a rubbery egg with her fork and shovel it unenthusiastically into her mouth. She tried to swallow it as whole as possible around her cringe so she wouldn't have to taste it too much. The bastard could force her to eat eggs again but she wasn't going to get used to it or enjoy it. She knew exactly the kind of pain the chickens went through to produce them and she had no desire to contribute to any living creature's suffering ever again. After she swallowed her second egg and had reluctantly started on the toast Hunson nodded his approval and disappeared back to the kitchen, returning a couple of minutes later with a milky cup of tea. The toast was dripping with real butter too. Marceline repressed a cringe at the sensation of it greasily leaking onto her fingers when she tore a chunk off. She knew Hunson was doing it deliberately. Somehow he'd found out she was vegan and he was testing her to see if she'd try to defy him or if she was submissive enough to force herself to eat it just to please him. She downed the tea as quickly as possible, trying not to show the way her shoulders twitched anxiously when it scalded her tongue a little.

"We need to decide what we're doing from now on, my girl." Hunson said when she put her empty mug to one side. "The family name lies in ruins and it falls to us to restore it."

Marcy stared at him weakly, very nearly speechless at the depth of his stupidity. Hunson hadn't changed at all from her childhood memories. He was still the monster she was scared might be lurking in the dark under her bed, still intimidatingly tall and gaunt with a severe angular face that sent chills down her spine. And now all her worst fears were coming true. He wanted to start up the business again and she was going to get dragged into it this time. He was finally going to destroy her with his lunacy.

"First things first. We need better digs. You can't just hang onto this mouldy old mausoleum, Marceline. Simon's gone fucking nuts. He isn't going to get better and he isn't coming home, he's not gonna need this dump again. You don't have to live in this godforsaken hole anymore. We'll build somewhere, custom design it. The cash has been ticking into my bank accounts for fifteen years more or less untouched so we can easily afford something better than this hovel."

She wanted to argue, to tell him this was the only place she'd ever been really happy. That Simon was the best thing that ever happened to her and her apartment was filled with their happy memories and reminders that for a while she'd had a real loving parent. But the words stuck in her throat and she hung her head again, too ashamed of herself to speak. Overnight she'd become her mother; too scared of Hunson to even think about challenging him. The eggs and butter and milk churned heavily in her stomach and the hot itching pain ached insistently between her shoulder blades. She didn't know how to even begin defying her father; the smallest thing might make him blow up without warning and lose what little self-control he had.

"Secondly." Hunson continued, oblivious to her internal anguish. "Work out our finances. The accounts here in the UK look healthy enough but that's the just the tip of the iceberg. The bulk of it's still offshore and it needs to be channelled back quietly. You've been lying low and that's good but now we need you to start up a shell business. Something believable, I'm thinking something with phones. You kids are all about smart phones these days, right? We'll start it in your name and run the cash from the real business through it. Just like old times, I know what I'm doing with that. Call up Starikof and his boys, get the pony trotting again. Yeah? Yeah, good."

She was going to be sick, she was sure of it. Start up a money laundering company in her name? Sure, why not? She might as well just get used to the idea that she was going to end up in jail. At least he couldn't ruin her life if she was locked up.

"Lastly, we're gonna go visit dear old Uncle Simon sometime soon. I've got a little bit of unfinished business with him, I owe him something for some coke."

He'd been using a manically enthusiastic voice until then but when he spoke her uncle's name Hunson dropped to a low growl filled with the promise of violence. Marceline's head whipped up to stare at him, wide eyed and horrified.

"Daddy, no! He's sick, just let him be!" she gasped unthinkingly.

Marceline didn't have time to even think about ducking before her father's hand connected heavily with her cheek and sent her reeling across the bed. The world spun and whirled around her and she slipped from the bed and down onto the floor with her arms wrapped around her head to fend off the blows she knew would follow.

"You don't fucking tell me what to do, girl! You fucking little bitch! You lounge around here like a fucking layabout and spend my money; that old bastard didn't train a speck of fucking gratitude into you did he? Well it stops now! All this, this hippie bullshit stops! You are a fucking Petrikova, yeah I know all about your stunt with your name! Start fucking acting worthy of being part of the family or deal with the consequences! You're my only heir now so you better start acting like it you little whore!"

With a sharp kick to her ribs to emphasize his point Hunson stepped over her crumpled form, picking up the empty tea mug and shattering it angrily against the wall.

"I'll be back later. Make sure you're dressed respectably and ready to meet some business associates. We are setting this up tonight." Hunson snarled as he stalked from the room. A couple of minutes later she heard the front door slam closed.

Marceline lay curled on the floor of her bedroom for a long time sobbing around the sharp sting in her cheek and the aching in her ribs before she forced herself to get up and take a very cold shower to ease the burning agony flaring along her scarred back. She had a lot to do too. She needed to make sure it was all ready before her father returned that evening and she didn't have time to let her post traumatic stress run its course.

…

He'd literally just unzipped and was about to let go of the full pressure on his bladder when a soft feminine voice spoke his name from the doorway. Mo nearly had a heart attack.

"MARCY!"

He stuffed himself back into his trousers and zipped up hurriedly before turning from the urinal to gape at her. He hadn't heard from her in days, not since he'd accidentally scared her, and suddenly she turned up in the school toilets to watch him piss? Covered in bruises too, he could just make out the shape of a hand print on her face under the unusually thick layer of makeup she was wearing.

"I need your help." she said quietly. "My Dad is out of prison. I don't know who else I can trust; I need you to do something for me."

"This is the boys' toilet! You cannot be in here!" Mo hissed, scanning the stalls for any sign that they were occupied. Nobody else was there at least.

"Mo, I very seriously need your help, could you stop worrying about where the other boys are gonna to take a dump or a sneaky lunchtime wank? Oh don't look at me like that, I went to this school and I knew more than one sixteen year old boy. I remember what you lot are like. That's not why I'm here! I need you to do something for me."

Mo stared harder at her.

"What do you mean, your Dad is out of prison?" he asked after a moment of tense silence.

"Exactly that. He's out of prison. He's seriously bad news; he went to prison when I was a kid so that's why I moved in with Simon. Didn't you ever wonder why I didn't live with my parents? You know my Mum died. Well my Dad murdered her. And now he's back, he hit me and he's going to hurt me again and probably a lot of other people too. I really need your help. You're the only person I can trust right now." Marceline replied in a rush, indicating her bruised cheek and red rimmed eyes.

"It is a sin to act against your father." Mo mumbled in confusion.

Her face, which had been so carefully neutral, crumpled into lines of abrupt rage.

"You want to talk about sins? It's a fucking sin to lock your wife and children in a house full of spilled petrol and push lit matches through the fucking letterbox!" she snarled back, suddenly furious. "Do you really want to know? You want to see what that bastard fucking did to me?"

Mo backed away as far as he could. The look that had flared in Marceline's eye wasn't entirely sane.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Mo stuttered when she whirled with her back to him and began to rake her shirt up and over her head. There was her gorgeous tattoo, although body modification was a sin too and his feelings were still very conflicted about it.

"Touch it." she commanded him in a tight voice. "Just gently run your fingers across the skin under the tattoo. Seriously, Mo! Touch my skin!"

Mo was not at all sure what was happening or why her father being out of jail required him to stroke her skin. He was suddenly very uncomfortable with the idea but he still hesitantly reached out and let his fingers brush the thorn bush that spread from her lower back up over the side of her ribs and all the way to her shoulders, covered on top in soft pink roses. He gasped, horrified.

"It's all weird and lumpy!"

"Scarred, Mo. It's a burn scar from the fire he started. The tattoo hides it because I couldn't stand seeing it every day. You and Bonnie are the only ones I've let touch it apart from Simon when I was a kid, my doctors and the tattoo artist."

He whipped his hand back angrily.

"Her? Why her? What is so special about her? A couple of weeks ago she did not even exist to you and now you are letting her touch your scars?" he all but growled in reply.

"Yeah, because she's special. If you must fucking know we spent the weekend together, we were _together,_ briefly. Oh don't give me that look. She's not going to be coming around again, not now that Dad's back. He's violent and homophobic, he's not going to know about Bonnie. Ever. I won't let him kill her too. Mo, my own father gave me those scars. He locked me in the house and he tried to _burn me to death_. Don't you get it? I need your help!" Marcy finished breathlessly.

Mo let his gaze flicker over her as she stood there in just jeans and a thin sports bra, breathing heavily with messy hair and flushed cheeks. It was how he'd imagined her a hundred times in the past two years but somehow now that he'd seen it for real it wasn't erotic or romantic; she was just his friend and she was distressed and hurt and begging him to help her. He did the only thing he could think of.

She didn't resist his hug, even leaned into it. If a couple of stray tears found their way onto Mo's school blazer he didn't comment. She was more grateful for that than she knew how to tell him. They stood like that for several long minutes before a quiet gasp in the doorway made Mo look up. Marcy didn't even move, just made a quiet noise that let him know her tears hadn't quite subsided yet.

"Get out, Baxter. I'm fucking busy in here. Go take a sneaky lunchtime wank someplace else." Mo snarled at the horse-faced boy staring at him from the door. He was ridiculously proud of how much like Marcy he sounded, how he didn't stutter over the swears. She was the strongest person he knew, if he was going to be strong for her he was going to be strong _like_ her. Baxter turned and fled. Mo didn't give a shit where he'd gone or what stupid rumours he'd start.

"What do you need me to do, chick?" Mo asked her quietly, tilting her chin so he could look her in the eyes and flicking a stray tear away from the end of her nose. Marceline laughed weakly; he was so glad she was back to being normal around him after that shameful day when he'd scared her in her bedroom. Mo didn't want to ever scare anyone, except maybe Marceline's evil father right then.

"Give this letter to the police." she said quietly. "I can't go myself, I have too much to do and probably someone's watching me. Going to hang out at the local school is weird but I tutor so many kids around here that they can't possibly watch all of you. Just... don't hate me. You'll understand why I have to do the things I do when the police get there and you give them the letter, ok? Just remember it's about the letter and I will pay for everything. Tell your Dad I'm sorry; tell him it was the only way and that I already arranged the money to pay for it to be transferred to your bank accounts. You'll understand tonight when they come for the letter."

Mo nodded despite not really understanding and took the small white envelope she gave him. She pulled her shirt back on to cover the worst of the scarring and pressed a quick peck onto his cheek.

"You're a really good friend, B-Mo. Please understand. I have to go and do something awful and I'm so sorry for it."

Mo stared at her in confusion as she left then looked down at the letter in his hands. He didn't get what she meant but he had every faith that he would, eventually.

The police knocked on the door in the middle of dinner to inform them that his father's corner shop had been trashed and vandalized and his upstairs neighbour was being arrested on suspicion of criminal damage. Mo understood and fished the unopened letter from his pocket.


	13. Chapter 13

**Plot plot so much plot. And a couple of new characters that you should recognise. As ever, thanks and love to my beautiful reviewers, I am so grateful to you guys for your kind words and continuing support. Friendly reminder that I'm still available for fic challenges/suggestions/requests/prompts, if there's anything you want me to write then let me know.**

 **Content Warning: burn descriptions, feels.**

* * *

The police finally came to arrest Marceline just before dinner which was a relief. If she'd been forced to make up any more sickly sweet stories about how Ash had taken her ice skating for her birthday last year she might have puked. She was already close enough to being sick what with the combined fear and anxiety churning in her stomach and the smell of roasting beef her father had filled the apartment with in anticipation of his business associates coming later. She was trying so hard to repress the post-traumatic stress flashbacks but every time she caught a whiff of meat cooking she could feel blazing fabric fall heavily against her back; hear her younger self scream at the unimaginable agony as her skin began to melt and bubble. And she hated him harder and harder with every passing second. Hated the way he laughed over her head with Ash and clapped her too hard on her scarred shoulder. Hated the casual possessiveness and total disregard he treated her with.

She'd expected her father to maybe make a big fuss about her being led away in handcuffs. But he just stared at her with an inscrutable expression on his serious face while they read out her rights and told her she was being arrested on suspicion of criminal damage, accused of smashing up and vandalising Mo's father's corner shop. As the surprisingly gentle police officer helped her still cuffed into the waiting patrol car outside Marceline risked a glance back at the apartment block. It was early evening and still quite light. She could see Mo outlined next to his mother in the window of their living room, watching her from behind the net curtains. He risked a small wave and brief thumbs up to her but she didn't dare wave back in case anyone else was watching from her apartment windows. Instead she tried to communicate with Mo silently; to send him a look that told him she was proud he'd listened and done the right thing. Marcy knew he was watching because he wanted her to know he'd given her letter to the police. If she'd looked around she might have seen that he wasn't the only one looking at her but her eyes were glued to the shadowy figure of her friend in the window. Too busy willing him not to hate her for what she'd had to do. Distantly she was glad Mo had kept his end of the bargain even thought she'd done something pretty awful. It was the only thing she could think of to get close to the man she needed to talk to without arousing suspicion. She knew she wouldn't have long to speak to him before her Dad arranged one of his creepy lawyer friends to come rescue her and she'd probably be back home in a few hours. Better the police had all the information before she even arrived; that's why she'd sent the letter.

They booked her into the holding cells instead of taking her straight into an interview room and that's when Marcy really started to panic. The longer they waited the more time her Dad had to arrange one of his goons to come get her off the hook, less time to talk to the letter's recipient. She paced the small cell for a few minutes, panicking quietly, before deciding on a course of action.

"Hey! I need to talk to someone, like, now! Before my lawyer arrives! Like, to confess! I need to talk without my lawyer present!" she yelled through the meal slot on her cell door. She paced the length of the tiny room again muttering anxiously to herself. It was a frustratingly small room, four paces across and five paces wide. There were all kinds of graffiti chipped into the crumbling plaster of the wall and a small high window that barely let in any light far above her head. Marceline squashed her panic back down ruthlessly; give in to it now and she'd be completely incapable of speaking to anyone let alone the man she was desperately hoping had received her letter. After a few tense minutes more a harassed looking young police officer swung the door of her cell open and jerked his head to indicate she should follow him.

"Right, you're up, Abadeer. Petrikova. Whatever, come on."

She was finally lead to a small interview room where she muttered a quick prayer of thanks to whichever deity was listening because there was no lawyer there yet. Just a plump dough faced detective who didn't look much older than herself and his sour craggy featured superior who nevertheless she could have kissed with relief. Marceline didn't know how she knew but she was certain the cold eyed man frowning at her from the interview desk was the man she'd sent the letter to.

"I want to turn informant." she announced in a rush before the sallow old detective even had a chance to open his mouth. "You're Detective Inspector Earle, right? You knew my Mum, she was working with you. Simon told me. You were trying to get evidence about the family, about my Dad."

The younger man scowled hard at her, puffing up indignantly and fixing her with a watery eyed glare.

"It's Detective _Chief_ Inspector Earle, and we are here to discuss criminal damage charges brought against you by Mr Mohammed Abid Al Omiri! Whatever family feud you have going on with your father-"

"Shut your mouth, Hope." the old detective growled. He stared at Marceline unreadably. His eyes raked her face for something, she wasn't sure what. For a moment his expression softened almost imperceptibly when he stared in her eyes and he nodded like she'd somehow passed his inspection. "So you're the little Petrikova. Yeah, I knew Claudia, she was informing for a few months before the fire. Knew her pretty damn well, well enough to be sorry for her passing. You do look just like her, kid. There's no getting away from it."

Marcy nodded, she'd heard the same thing her whole life.

"I want to inform on the bastard who killed her." she replied carefully, making sure she maintained eye contact, needing him to see that she was completely honest. If Earle thought she was working with the family and trying to pull some kind of scam then he would never trust her again. She couldn't afford not to let him see the truth in her gaze. "My uncle told me a couple of years ago before his memory started to slip that she was informing on my father before the fire. That she'd been meeting you regularly to pass on information. I want to take her place. My Uncle Simon that is, Simon Petrikov. He wasn't in the business side of the family."

"I knew Simon too, kid. I knew he always meant well." Earle replied in what probably passed for a gentle voice for him, although it was still a gravely growl.

"Sir," Hope whined, "Sir we're supposed to switch on the tape recorder! She's been arrested for criminal damage, we have to ask the interview questions!"

DCI Earle turned the full strength of his most disapproving glare onto the younger officer. He was a powerfully built man about ten years younger than Marceline's father, around the same age as her mother would have been. His bristling blonde hair was liberally peppered with streaks of white and pretty much just blended straight into the four-day shadow covering his lower face; there was no obvious break point between his hairline and his stubble. He had cold eyes that were currently glaring down the full length of his considerable nose at the cherub faced young detective who shrunk back when he met Earle's gaze. The older man rolled his shoulders thoughtfully, still scowling.

"Elmon, why don't you go fetch Miss Petrikova a glass of water, mmmm? Seems like she's got a lot of talking to do. Wouldn't want her throat getting dry." Earle said to the younger man after a moment.

Detective Hope was obviously reluctant to leave them alone but nodded and slipped from the room anyway, watching Marceline with narrowed eyes until the door closed on him.

"He doesn't trust me." she observed to Earle with a humourless snort.

"No more do I. You're a Petrikov, even sweet little Claudia was shady as fuck. Until you prove to me you're your mother's daughter and not another Hunson then don't expect me to turn my back to you even for a second, Petrikova." the old man replied with a growl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter Mo had delivered to the uniformed officers that had come to the apartment. She was unbelievably glad to see he had it, there was so much that could have gone wrong getting it to him. "So Hunson's out again. That slippery bastard. And little Baby Evil is all grown up and looking for revenge."

Marcy winced. She hated the nickname the tabloids had given her in the aftermath of the fire and her father's trial. Whichever stupid hack had decided it would sell more papers to call the famous East End gangster the Lord of Evil had also apparently thought it was appropriate to refer to his seriously injured young daughter as Baby Evil. Earle smiled humourlessly when he noticed her discomfort.

"You want to bring Hunson down, kid? I don't blame you, we all want that. But you need to bring me something I can use. Another stunt like your smash and grab today and you'll be warming a bunk in the cells in his place. There's no appetite amongst top brass for civilians to get involved in undercover work these days, anything you bring will have to be from your own initiative. You understand me? You're close to him. Bring us some solid proof, something he can't squirm out of. And don't commit any more crimes, that's unacceptable."

Marceline nodded, she'd figured she wasn't going to be offered any kind of immunity. Earle would help so long as she stayed within the law and it was up to her to dig up the dirt on Hunson without him getting suspicious. Fine, she could do that.

Earle was the only police officer Marceline would consider speaking to, the only one she could trust even a little. The police were not friendly to anyone who carried the name Petrikov and Earle had been the only one willing to talk to her mother. Hunson had thought Claudia was having an affair when in reality she'd been meeting Earle and giving him inside information about her husband and his business associates. Of course it had all been dismissed during his court case as the fantasies of a bored housewife; Claudia hadn't provided enough hard evidence. If she had Hunson would never have seen the light of day again. Marceline was determined not to fall into the same trap as her mother. She was going to get cast iron evidence and get that bastard behind bars for good this time.

"Hey, can you arrange something for me? Get someone out to the nursing home my Uncle Simon's at. Hunson's going to see him and he's going to hurt him. Can you fix something, get him taken into hospital or something? Simon's ill and he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't recognise me so much so he won't know who my father even is. I can't let him get hurt." Marcy asked after a tense moment's thought.

Earle nodded.

"I can do that. Act surprised when you visit and he's not there, you won't be informed of where he's been moved to. And for fuck's sake Petrikova, keep yourself safe too, yeah? Your mother would never have forgiven me for letting something happen to you, kid. She loved you and your brother so damn much, she made me promise to keep you safe. Do not make me break a promise to a dead woman, Petrikova."

They passed Detective Elmon Hope coming back the opposite way down the corridor as Earle walked her back to the front desk. The chubby faced man stared at her angrily and Marceline had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She instinctively disliked the young detective.

"You're free to go, Petrikova." Earle said loudly over whatever Hope had been about to say. "Looks like the Al Omiris have dropped all charges. Sorry for the inconvenience, miss."

He shook her hand and carefully palmed her a business card with an emergency contact number on it. She nodded to let him know she'd call when she had something and he handed her back her jacket and mobile. Ash was waiting by the front desk for her and completely without warning she felt an unreasonable stab of anger and distress; despite all her cool logic some irrational corner of her mind had been expecting Bonnie. Marceline pushed the redhead from her thoughts violently. She didn't allow herself even a single moment of regret; it would cripple her if she started to think about it. She was keeping the other girl alive by keeping her away from her father, she knew it in her bones. It was just that to push her away almost hurt worse than the burns had, worse than almost anything she could remember. Marcy followed Ash wordlessly outside to the waiting taxi and allowed him to press a brief kiss to her cheek for the look of the thing just in case anyone was watching. The card with Earle's number on it felt weirdly heavy against her hip when she shoved it into her pocket and she knew it had been worth smashing up Mo's father's shop for but it was a hollow kind of victory. Her face still ached from where Hunson had hit her and Ash pulled out his phone and ignored her the moment the taxi door was closed. She wished it had been Bonnie.

…

"Hey, like, we're going out, sure you don't wanna come?"

"Certain."

"Do you want me to bring you anything before we go?"

"No."

"Aren't you at least gonna put the light on?"

"No."

"Bon, come on. You can't sit in the dark being lonely and sad forever."

Bonnie just rolled over, away from Lydia and the unwelcome intrusion of light that spilled in from her open bedroom door. She knew distantly somewhere through the grey fog of misery that had settled around her that she was acting like a sulky child but she just couldn't find it in herself to care. Bonnie had always been skittish, nervous, her naturally anxious disposition had only gotten worse after her father left. Now she was numb; unfeeling for maybe the first time in her life. It was even worse than when Finn had spectacularly dumped her while she was still getting her breath back.

Her roommate said something else, probably about how she couldn't wallow in her misery for the rest of her life. Lydia was severely underestimating Bonnie's capacity for wallowing, she thought. There was no reason at all that she couldn't wallow forever. She heard the front door close; maybe Lydia had been telling her she'd see her later. Probably, she wouldn't want to keep perhaps Brad or maybe Johnny or whoever she was seeing this week waiting.

In the darkness of her room Bonnie lay and listened to the clock on the wall tick. Her thoughts circled back to Marceline whatever else she tried to focus on. She'd cracked and tried to call the other girl that morning only to discover that her number was disconnected. In desperation because she felt like she might explode if she didn't tell her one or two very important things Bonnie had left the house while Lydia was out at some fashion event and driven across to Marcy's apartment block. She'd arrived just in time to see her ex-girlfriend handcuffed and lead away into a waiting police car. So she supposed it was all true then and whatever criminal activity Marceline was mixed up in was serious. She hadn't know what else to do so she'd followed the car to the nearest police station and waited outside, hoping to corner the other girl when she came out. She'd ignored the tall blonde man who entered a few minutes later but after an hour and a bit he came back out of the building arm in arm with Marceline. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before opening the door of a taxi for her and following her inside. Bonnie wasn't sure how she managed to drive home after that because she didn't really remember it past the haze of hurt and fury that filled her like a fog. Next thing she knew she was at home in her bed again while Lydia hovered worriedly in the doorway and told her she couldn't stay there being sad forever.

Probably it was creepy to stalk Marceline like that. Really thought she'd just wanted to talk somewhere away from where her psycho father had been lurking. She hadn't mean to just follow the other girl around and stare at her from a distance. And who was that blonde man who'd picked her up from the police station? Bonnie seethed with irrational jealousy. She could hear Marcy's voice in her memory just before they'd first kissed, awkwardly stammering that she was gay. _I think I have a crush on you, actually._ But she certainly hadn't looked it when she was arm in arm with the handsome blonde man who'd opened the taxi door for her. And she'd mentioned an ex-boyfriend on more than one occasion. Bonnie wondered how much of what the other girl had told her was the truth. Her mind's eye couldn't help but show her his hands caressing the beautiful lines of Marcy's tattoo, skin to skin, his lips murmuring quietly into her ear, watching the way she sighed and let her eyes drift closed against the sensations. It was more than Bonnie could stand-

Something snapped and pain blossomed through Bonnie's hand. She looked down, vaguely surprised to discover that she'd picked up a pen from her desk and been bending it between her fists until it broke it in half. She'd impaled herself on the shattered plastic in the process. She should go clean the cut, she thought distantly. Perhaps. Maybe when she got up.

Very suddenly Bonnie didn't want to be alone in the dark any more. She sat up and slid onto the floor on her hands and knees still fully dressed from her earlier stalking episode and rooted around under her bed for some shoes. It was a ten minute walk to her Mum's house and when she let herself in through the back door she could heard her mother watching TV in the lounge. She didn't disturb her, just crept up the stairs to the back bedroom. It was occupied for the moment while they were between full-time care but soon enough its inhabitant would have to leave again. Most people didn't know Bonnie wasn't an only child and she was guiltily aware that she didn't usually correct people if they referred to it. But she had never forgotten that there was always someone who listened to her and never interrupted. Someone she could talk to, someone who made her feel safe in a way nobody else did. She slipped quietly into his room and came forward to give him a loving hug. She'd really missed him, hadn't seen him in far too long.

"Hello, Neddy." she whispered against her little brother's shoulder. Ned gurgled back, pleased to see her. Bonnie was the only person Ned allowed to hug him, even their Mum couldn't get as close as his big sister. Ned was severely autistic and sometimes Bonnie thought she was the only person in the whole world who really understood him. It was a sibling thing. She didn't expect anyone else to understand.

"I met someone really wonderful." she told him quietly. "I know I'm an awful lesbian cliché but I'm feeling a lot of feelings for her, warm and fuzzy feelings. I'm not gonna say it's y'know... love. Not yet. I don't want to jinx it. Not that it matters anymore. Ok, it might be love, a little. She's just unbelievable. But now she's broken up with me and I'm not allowed to see her again because her Dad's a homophobe and he's killed people and she's scared he'll hurt me. Ned, what am I supposed to do? I don't even know how to feel about it. Do I just back off and forget her? But, you have to see this girl, Ned. She's unforgettable. Or should I fight for it and try to get her back? We could hide it, see each other in secret. People do it every day and get away with it, why can't we? I'd be her secret if that's what it took, I don't care. Just don't know how to tell her so."

Ned gurgled again and petted his sister's hair. He'd always been fixated on soft things. His room was furnished with the softest fabrics and he carried an old cuddly pink dragon toy with him everywhere, rubbing the velvet of its wings when he was stressed. Bonnie had brought it back from a weekend away with her friends when she was a kid. She'd felt so guilty the whole time for going and having fun without her brother but Ned hadn't seemed to mind, not when he got his present. The way his eyes lit up when he first touched the silky velvet it was made from was worth spending most of her holiday money on it.

"I don't know what to do. I'm not brave like she is, Neddy." Bonnie continued quietly. "I really like her. I mean, honestly so much more than just 'really like'. You know? And this whole situation is completely bananas. I basically stalked her this evening. I needed to see her and I didn't know what else I could do so I followed her. She was getting into a taxi with a man and he was all over her. It made me so mad I almost crashed the car. I feel like she's making me crazy, like one minute I'm so full up with feelings I could just explode and the next I'm so numb I can barely even move. What am I gonna do, Ned? This untenable, I can't just keep going on like this."

He was still petting her hair and making his usual gurgling noises. Ned had never really learned to speak but nevertheless his sister was adept at understanding what he meant; he'd missed her and was sad she was sad. He wanted to pet her hair until she was happy again. Ned always knew how to make Bonnie smile, he was her favourite guy in the world.

"You think I should just give up on girls completely? I'll never find another girl like her, maybe I should just stop trying?" she asked him contemplatively after a while. Ned made a sort of snorting noise and she laughed out loud. "You're right, straight girls don't have to put up with shit like this. But I can't switch teams now. Boys are so icky, their breath smells terrible. No offence."

Bonnie could honestly say that she felt a thousand times better for spending time with her brother than she had since she read that terrible letter. It was only temporary; in the morning she'd have to face reality again and she just didn't feel capable of explaining it to her mother yet. She'd make an excuse about uni being stressful or something and go back to her apartment, go back to being miserably alone in her room. But just for one night she could talk to Neddy and get it all off her chest, just until morning. She snuggled up next to him on his bed and let him pet her hair some more, humming a lullaby for him in the gloom of the bedroom. Ned would be back in full time care soon enough; he was just too big to live at home all the time and he needed specialists to handle his temper tantrums. But for now she could pretend they were still little kids and she'd never known what being hurt felt like. Just kids sitting together in the glow of their night light and sharing their close bond.

In the morning when their Mum came to get Ned up for his breakfast she found him curled up fast asleep with his sister. She hadn't even heard Bonnie let herself into the house last night. With a smile she left the two of them to it, Bonnie had sounded so sad when they'd spoken on the phone the day before and her mother worried that the university were working her to death. It was sweet how close her children still were despite all their differences. She was glad they had each other.


	14. Chapter 14

**So yeah, another new character. Sorry. But he is important to the story and also the last important character I'll be introducing. As with BMO I used a chunk of artistic licence here, because I needed Petya Bolshakov to be important in the family but since he's based on Peppermint Butler he's really supposed to be closer to Bonnie but there wasn't really a way to make that happen in the boundaries of this story. And it's not cannon established if he even knows Ash but like I said, artistic licence.**

 **The quoted lines in French are lyrics from the original Édith Piaf version of La Vie En Rose, the line of poetry is from a beautiful poem called** **"Death," by Rainer Maria Rilke.**

 **Content Warning: confessions, descriptions of historical character death.**

* * *

Petya Bolshakov was enjoying his life as a newly freed man and wasn't terribly happy to hear that his son was still involved with that backstabbing bastard Abadeer's daughter, no matter that he was her godfather and her uncle's friend. But he supposed that when he saw them together at least they made a handsome couple. Her dark brooding stare contrasted nicely with Ash's pale beauty. And he supposed it was good they were still in touch after all those years, it never hurt to have the Petrikov heir on his side. When he opened the front door to her he was struck by how much she looked like her mother. She was all Claudia and barely any Hunson. That was encouraging; Petya had always had more time from Marceline's sweet tempered mother than for her father. He hoped the same was true of her personality.

"Marceline, it has been a long time." he murmured as he greeted her. He noticed the way she winced when he brushed his lips against her cheekbone in greeting and had to repress another disapproving frown. Hunson was still treating his women like they were his personal punch bags then. He could just see the faint outline of a bruise flowering across her cheek under her make-up, similar to the ones Claudia had often sported. Petya made a mental note to make sure Hunson was the victim of a violent mugging sometime soon. She may be a stranger now but she was still his goddaughter.

Fifteen years in jail had changed Petya Bolshakov. He wanted no more of Hunson's stupid turf wars or power trips. Petya was determined that the family would move in a more subtle direction. The world had changed around them and there was no more space for a thug like Hunson,; he was going to drag them all down with him if someone didn't do something about it. Petya Bolshakov had resolved to be that someone. He would begin by finding out what kind of woman his little goddaughter had grown into and then turning her against her father if he could. Having Marceline in his corner was more symbolic than practical but if the last Petrikov supported him then Petya knew the rest of the family wouldn't be far behind. Hunson had never been popular, even less now since his time in prison.

"Papa Bolshakov." the girl replied quietly, returning the kiss briefly and backing away as quickly as good manners would allow. Petya nodded to her to take a seat on the sofa in his cluttered lounge and poured her some peppermint tea into a small glass. He was not a good man but he at least prided himself on being more respectful than her father. Ash had told him she was vegan and he was certain Hunson would be taking a sadistic delight in forcing her to eat as many animal products as possible. Petya had opted to serve a tea that was taken without milk; he hoped she would appreciate the subtlety.

"So Hunson is restarting the business, yes? And he wants me to allow my only son to be dragged into this insanity." Petya started.

"He wants to regain his empire." Marceline confirmed. "He wants me and Ash to run a shell business that he can channel his dirty money through."

Petya nodded, that was what he'd expected to happen. It was Hunson's style; try to do everything all at once instead of working subtly and taking care not to act suspiciously. Marceline's name was as clean as a Petrikov ever got, so far as he'd been able to discover her criminal record was limited to a few minor juvenile offences and some recurring problems with truancy from school years ago when her uncle had first started to get sick. Ash didn't have a criminal record; instead he had a quite promising career as a male model. Petya would move heaven and earth to keep it that way. He was already spreading his subtle influence in Ash's professional world to ensure his boy's success.

"Begin whatever company your father demands if that will bring you peace but keep my Ash out of it. He is doing just fine without Hunson's involvement."

The girl frowned and nodded, Petya was relieved. Likely she was no more keen on dragging her boyfriend's name through the mud than he himself was. Petya had his worries about his son, he suspected every parent worried for their children. Well probably not Hunson but most parents. Ash had grown up alone with his mother and Petya had missed the best years of his boy's childhood because Hunson had named him in a failed plea bargain for reduced sentencing. Despite Hunson's recent success in having their convictions quashed Petya still harboured resentment towards the other man for that. No amount of bribing judges and buying juries could give him back the time he'd lost watching his son grow.

Ashar was a stranger now, tall and statuesque like his mother and far more handsome than Petya could really take credit for. And when he watched them closely from the cover of pouring the tea Petya noticed that there was a well-defined wall of physical distance between him and the girl he'd claimed to be in a relationship with when they sat together on the sofa. Petya was not blind; he could see that they were a little uncomfortable in each other's company. He nodded to himself, resolved. Things were not as they appeared. He was almost certain he already knew what Ash was keeping from him but he would let it surface whenever his son felt able to tell him. He would not mess up his boy's life any more than he already had by getting mixed up with Hunson and his craziness.

Until recently Ash had shared an apartment with another handsome up and coming male model and then a couple of days before his father had been released from prison he'd moved without warning back into his childhood bedroom. His father suspected he already knew what Ash's secret was but he would be damned before he'd do anything to make his boy's coming out any more traumatic than it had to be. Briefly Petya wondered what Hunson's pretty daughter was getting from their pretend relationship but he disregarded it; that was none of his concern. They'd been childhood friends so no doubt she was doing it as a favour to him.

"Hey, I'm sitting right here you know." Ash broke into Petya's musings with a scowl.

"And do you want to be part of Hunson's next insanity?" his father asked softly. Ash flushed and looked down at his hands.

"No."

"Then what are you complaining about?"

Ash shrugged and scowled out of the window instead, avoiding the older man's eyes. He didn't want anything to do with Hunson or with the fat little man his father had become. He missed Anton and he missed his carefree life of hedonism and partying, missed not having to deal with any of the Old Moscow crowd or their stupid old fashioned prejudices. Ash knew he wasn't the only one suffering. Marcy's face was bruised with Hunson's hand print and her eyes were shadowed and vacant like she'd pushed all of her emotions into a mental vault and switched off from them. He sympathised with that completely. Ash reached out and took Marceline's hand, giving her a brief squeeze of solidarity. He figured that he would at least pretend to be a decent boyfriend for her. He hoped she understood that he shared her pain.

...

Upstairs in Ash's childhood bedroom that night Marcy huddled awkwardly in the wicker chair by the window. She hadn't been to the Bolshakov house in years. The last time she'd been in that room they were about fourteen and checking each other's French homework. Ash had shyly confessed that he didn't really like girls and she'd carefully replied that she might, she wasn't completely sure yet. They'd lost touch for a while after that, gone to different schools and only seen each other every few months for a coffee or whenever Ash needed a date for some family party or other. She was distantly glad he was still her friend after everything, even years later.

"Your father seems happy to see me." she mumbled after a while, staring out of the window at the dark rain spattered roof terraces and perfectly manicured yards Ash's neighbours kept.

"He's just glad you're not forcing me to join in with your Dad's craziness. I am too, not that anyone bothered to ask my opinion." Ash replied with a shrug.

Marceline didn't reply. She was quiet for so long Ash thought perhaps she hadn't heard him.

"I miss Bonnie so much it hurts." she murmured softly after a long silence. "This must be killing her. She doesn't deal well with abandonment, she's had some bad experiences and this... she must be feeling terrible. I just want to talk to her, tell her I'm sorry. Or just, just curl up with her. Close my eyes and rest together and not have to deal with any of this for a while. I feel like I'm trapped in a nightmare I can't wake up from. Every time I think about how badly she must be hurting it's like something ripping open in my chest. I just want to explain, I don't want her to be hurt because of me. I wish I'd never met her if this is how it's gonna be. Wish I'd just stayed away from her that day at the museum."

Ash nodded. He understood how that felt.

"Anton will be home tomorrow. I can just see the way he'll burst into our apartment all flustered and excited. The soppy idiot's probably bought me a whole new wardrobe. I can picture how his face is gonna crumple up when he reads the letter I left for him. He'll cry, ruin the careful hint of mascara he denies wearing that's so obvious. He'll curl up on the floor like he's in pain and probably pull his pretty hair out in fistfuls and scream about it. Hope he doesn't do something stupid."

"Hope Bonnie doesn't either. She doesn't seem the type though; she's probably just lying in bed having a massive anxiety attack and refusing to talk to anyone." Marcy muttered. She couldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't see the trapped panic that perfectly reflected her own looking back at her because if she did she might just crack and do something really dumb like let herself cry about it or try to call her girlfriend. She had Bonnie's number memorised, just in case. It would be an incredibly easy and stupid thing to call her.

"He's got a big drag competition coming up; he was really excited about it." Ash continued. "I told him that drag queening was stupid and weird but even I have to admit that when he's Tiffany he can dance better in heels than most women I've met. I hope this doesn't stop him competing. He's the favourite to win the Queen of Hearts this year. I just don't want to ruin everything he enjoys just because my family are fucking crazy. I- I just… just…"

The blonde man put his head in his hands and let his shoulders shake with something alarmingly similar to a sob.

"Hey now," Marcy said, overcome with sympathy. "Don't you start crying or you'll set me off too. We're doing the right thing, yeah? We're giving up the people we care about to keep them safe. Because we love them. Right?"

"Yeah. Yeah I know. But I never told him, he said he loved me one time and I just laughed and told him not to be such an emotional queen. What if he never knows?" Ash asked quietly around the sobs that still forced their way up his throat. She slid out of the chair and came across to the bed, running her hand comfortingly across his shoulders.

"It doesn't matter if he ever knows, not anymore. It matters that he's safe. You know what the family are like. Unless you want to leave roses on his grave then just do the right thing and stay as far away from him as you can. If you really love him then forget he exists."

Ash gulped and nodded, wiping his eyes on the corner of his sleeve.

"I know. I do, I know I can't see him now. I just... it's hard. I wish I'd told him."

"Yeah, I know. I never told Bonnie either. It was too soon, we'd only spent a weekend together and I didn't want to scare her off by being too clingy. Least I don't have to worry about that now."

They sat in miserable silence for a while longer, Marcy still rubbing his shoulders comfortingly and Ash trying to master his sobs and push them back down. It was a bleak kind of comfort that they had each other but it was better than being alone at least. Marceline hadn't wanted to stay in the same house as her father. He'd been out when they'd gotten back from the police station the night before and that morning when she'd apologised for causing a scene and getting arrested he'd just shrugged and said he assumed the bastards had deserved it. That'd he'd done much worse to people who'd crossed him in the past. Ash had taken her to lunch and they'd both awkwardly pushed their food around their plates for a while before giving up and going to his Dad's place. They decided to stay until morning because neither of them could face being stuck with Hunson.

They passed a sleepless night lying as far apart as possible on Ash's narrow bed and occasionally asking each other in low voices if they were still awake. By the morning Marceline had more to distract herself with anyway. She had to get to the shops first thing and get an unobtrusive piece of tech then hurry home feeling like it was burning a hole in her pocket the whole way.

…...

Heart hammering in her throat Marceline pinned the tiny concealed microphone under the collar of Hunson's coat and tapped the receiver to check it worked. She could hear the corresponding tap clearly in her own subtle earpiece; if she was lucky she'd be able to record every word her father said the minute she thought he was about to incriminate himself. She flattened her hair nervously over her ear and then added a hat for good measure; paranoid that he'd somehow see it and know what it was.

"Marceline! Hurry up, girl. We're going now!"

She thought back for a second over everything she'd learnt from her childhood travels with Simon as she hurried towards the door carrying his bugged coat. Things had worked out well that morning and Simon had taught her to be thankful for small coincidences that made her life easier. It had become a peculiar habit between the two of them. She was grateful and wanted to know who she should direct her thoughts to as well as trying to distract herself from what she was about to do.

Asiaq, the Inuit weather goddess, was probably most appropriate to offer a prayer to for sending a steady stream of cold rain and giving her the perfect opportunity to hide the microphone on the coat. If it had been good weather he wouldn't have worn it. The Norse goddess Freyja for departed family, to honour her brother and mother and to give thanks that she had the opportunity to get justice for them at last. Freyja was the goddess of sexuality and love too; she should be honoured for allowing Marceline to cross paths with Bonnie no matter how briefly. And Artemis, the ancient Greek goddess of the hunt. She would need the skills of a master hunter to snare Hunson at his own game, the patience and detachment of a predator stalking an easily alerted deer. Three goddesses. Marcy repeated their names over and over in her head like a mantra as she helped her father into his coat.

 _Asiaq. Freyja. Artemis._

Marceline didn't believe in gods or goddesses of any kind but it helped focus her mind and keep her from thinking about what would happen to her if Hunson found the microphone. He'd already proven that he had no problem murdering his own family for perceived betrayals. She didn't want to know what he'd do to her if he had direct evidence that she was working against him.

She hadn't been back to visit her family's graves in a long time. Not since Simon had been taken into care and had stopped being able to go and speak to Betty. But she'd needed the excuse to get her father talking, needed to prompt him to talk about the past. They rode the underground in tense silence together and then emerged onto the grey rainy street. Hunson strode along imperiously and Marcy scurried after him, struggling to keep up. When they reached the cemetery gates Hunson was forced to let her lead the way. He'd already been in jail when the funerals took place and he didn't know where his wife and son were buried.

Marceline threaded her way carefully between the graves, up the well-worn path to the headstones that had been a constant part of her childhood. She finally stopped before the slab of marble with her mother's name carved into it and had to repress a shiver of nostalgia. She bitterly wished Simon was there to hold her hand again.

 _Claudia Valentina Petrikova_

 _Beloved Mother and Sister_

 _"Les ennuis, les chagrins s'effacent_

 _Heureux, heureux à en mourir"_

 _Death bows his head and weeps_

"Hey again, Mum. Sorry I had to bring him." Marcy whispered to the cold stone. "I'm trying to get rid of him again. You'll see."

Then Hunson was beside her and she had to shut up or risk him overhearing.

"Do you want a moment?" she asked him, pretending for the look of it that she believed his bullshit about having nothing to do with the fire. Pretending right along with him that he could possibly feel grief as deeply as her. It was like a whole ocean of loss was pouring onto her shoulders every time she remembered the ragged hole in her life where her mother and brother should have been.

"Please. Go wait by the gates, I'll be back soon."

Marceline nodded and strode off towards the main gates again, pressing the slim remote in her pocket to activate the earpiece and concealed microphone. It was tiny but powerful. The man in the tech shop had said it would have no problem picking up a human voice even if it was wrapped up and put in a few layers of cloth. That was lucky; Marceline was desperate to get the evidence as quickly as possible before something happened to ruin her plans. The longer it took the greater the chances were that something would go wrong. She wished there was a goddess to thank for it but it seemed there wasn't a single deity in any culture who was tasked with making sure the shops in London had every gadget imaginable available at a reasonable price twenty four hours a day. She was still incredibly thankful for it though.

"Hello Claudia." her father's rough voice spoke in her ear as she made her way back through the graveyard. "I'd say 'lovely weather for it' but no doubt you'd just stare at me with that stupid look on your pretty face. You never did get my sense of humour did you, girl?"

Marceline ground her teeth together, anger replacing the raw grief of a moment before. She'd forgotten that her father had always spoken to her mother like she was a dog that'd learned a clever trick, forgotten how furious it made her. But she forced herself to relax as much as she could and listen to what he was saying.

"I suppose I should say I'm sorry. Sorry for Marshall at least, he wasn't supposed to be there. But sorry for you? No, you earned it and you knew how I would react. I gave you everything and you were a faithless bitch. But I'm walking and breathing and you're buried in the ground now. So I guess that means I won, if it was ever a game. Who was he, Claudia? Was he as good as me, did he make you come, tell you he loved you? Or were you just fucking anyone you could get your hands on?"

He paused for a long minute and Marceline was forced to listen to the dull thudding of her own livid pulse in her ears, anger making her heart race. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, make him apologise. Make him hurt like she was hurting.

"Don't think this is over, Claudia. That girl you left me is wild and every bit as stupid and useless as her cheating whore of a mother. And your dear sweet Simon, always so overprotective, you want to know what I'm going to do to him? Wait and see. I'll make those burns on his arms look like a fucking massage. I spent fifteen years behind bars because he was too fucking stupid to follow simple instructions and move a bag of coke. I'll take a lot of pleasure in choking the life out of him with my own hands."

Marceline clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. It was harder to listen to than she'd thought it would be.

 _Asiaq. Freyja. Artemis._

She chanted their names over and over in her head but it wasn't enough.

 _Mum. Marshall. Betty._

That worked. Do it for her Mum, for Marshall, for Aunt Betty. Listen to Hunson slowly hang himself with his gloating. For them. And once he was behind bars again she could find Bonnie and apologise, try to fix things. Do it for the people she loved.

"You know I didn't mean for Marshall to get hurt though. He was my heir, my boy. My wonderful son. Look what you and your idiot brother did, Claudia. You killed him just as much as I did. I ordered the hit but you kept him there. You're the reason he was in the house when the fire started. Marceline could have fucking burned for as much use as she turned out to be, but Marshall? I could have used a son like him. He was the best thing I ever created. You're as guilty as I am, girl. Did you ever wonder in your last moments what had happened? I hope you did, Claudia. I hope you cried bitter tears over your lover whoever that idiot was. Hope you knew that you were going to fucking die and that it was me who killed you. I knew you were faithless, see, I arranged it all. Couldn't let you just make a fool out of me like that. Couldn't let some other man put his hands on you, you w-were mine. Y-you were my _wife_ , you were only supposed to love me. I- I hope you knew that it was me who set the fire, Claudia. Hope you suffered, you ch-cheating bitch."

There, that was as cast iron a confession as she could ever have hoped for. But Marcy paused, listening to her father's voice, listening to the way he said the words and not the awful things he was admitting to. His voice shook and it was heartbreak not anger that forced the confession out. She could hear tears in his words, regret and grief every bit as strong as her own.

"I wasn't enough for you, was I? Gave you everything I had, girl, everything you wanted and more. You could have owned my heart forever, could have had anything that it was in my power to give you. And you still strayed. Did you ever fucking love me the way I loved you? See I don't think you did, Claudia. I think you loved my money. Loved the lifestyle I offered you. But me? You never loved me, never even tried. And now you're dead, you stupid bitch. You made me do it. Made me kill you. I wish it wasn't too late to tell you I'm sorry, that I regret it. That I m-miss you, every fucking minute of every day. Wish I could just take it back, b-bring you back... Cl-Claudia..."

The recording dissolved into wordless sobbing. From her distance by the cemetery gates Marceline could see her father was leaning forward over the grave. He was holding the top of her mother's headstone with both hands and shaking with tears. She was suddenly filled with an emotion she hadn't been at all prepared to deal with. It was a strange feeling, foreign when applied to Hunson. She hated him still and wished he had died instead of her mother. But underneath all that, underneath the seething anger and loathing there was a spark of pity for him. She couldn't begin to understand how it must feel to live with the knowledge that she had killed the only person she really loved in a jealous rage. She shivered at the depth of crippling sorrow that thinking about it opened up in her heart as she tried to repress the image of how much it would hurt to be in the same situation. To stand over Bonnie's grave crying bitterly and telling her she was sorry, that she didn't mean to kill her. That she wished it wasn't too late. Knowing that no amount of remorse would ever bring her lover back; nothing and nobody could undo what she'd done. But that was what would happen if Hunson found out about them, Marceline knew it instinctively.

She pushed the mental image and the unwanted sympathy to one side. Bonnie was alive and safe, nobody would hurt her because nobody would even know she existed. Marceline would rather kill herself than let anything happen to Bonnie if that's what it came to. She might not always have been the most moral person but she wouldn't let the innocent redhead suffer just because Marceline had had the misfortune to fall in love with her. And Hunson was still a selfish bastard and still deserved to pay. She refused to let his remorse change the way she felt about him. Her back hadn't stopped burning in remembered agony since he'd turned up in her apartment and she despised him intensely, more than ever. Just because he had a heart after all didn't mean she could forgive him. It didn't mean he deserved anyone to forgive him or show him any sort of kindness ever again. What had Mo called the worst kind of sin that night after the gig? _Dhanb._ What Hunson had done was _dhanb,_ she didn't have to be a Muslim to know that and she wasn't devout enough in any faith to turn the other cheek or forgive him his trespasses. Instead she slid her phone out of her pocket and dialled the emergency number DCI Earle had given her from memory. He picked up almost immediately.

"I've got your evidence." Marceline murmured quietly down the line.


	15. Chapter 15

**So it has been brought to my attention that I've made a few grammatical mistakes in previous chapters. I'd like to offer some cruddy excuse or other but I guess the truth is I just don't proof read as thoroughly as I should before posting. Le sigh. Sometime soon I'm gonna go back and try to fix any glaring problems I notice. Thanks for sticking with the story so far despite the shitty grammar and very dark plot. I promise it is going to lighten up eventually.**

 **Especially huge shout out to all my regular reviewers, you guys are total sweethearts. And to everyone else who sent me kind words of support. I'm not sure anyone's even reading these notes but I'm kinda having a rough few days and your continued support is really wonderful. You guys are awesome, thanks for sticking with my silly story.**

 **There's a chunk of research I did for this chapter over at the Muslims For Progressive Values (mpvusa dot org) as well as annoying my Muslim friends with tons of questions so I'm fairly confident I've written Mo believably here. As before though I don't want to offend anyone so please bear with me if the way Mo describes and practices his faith is different from your own. NB if you weren't aware, an imam is like a Muslim priest or vicar.**

 **Content Warning: graphic fire and burn descriptions.**

* * *

It was comforting after all the recent craziness to go to the mosque for his answers. Mo had never considered himself to be a very devout Muslim but he had questions about his faith and the role it played in his life. He knew the best place to turn was his imam.

"Homosexuality." the old man repeated with a thoughtful frown. He lowered himself carefully into the chair behind his desk and winced at the familiar grind of arthritis in his knees. Mo nodded earnestly.

"Yes. I want to know if there is room in Islam to be a practicing homosexual and still be a good person." Mo repeated.

The imam took a long sip of his tea and regarded Mo carefully over his mug.

"Do you find you are plagued by unwanted same sex attractions, Baseem?" he finally asked. B-Mo flushed, embarrassed. He hadn't even considered that the older man might think that was why he was asking.

"No, it is not about me! It is a girl I know. She told me recently that she has a romantic relationship with another girl and I do not want to have to turn my back on her because of it. I do not like the idea that she is damned or somehow an abomination because of who she loves. Can I still be a Muslim and be her friend too?" Mo asked.

The imam nodded contemplatively. Mo let out an almost silent sigh of relief. He'd been very aware that the reply to his question might be something he didn't want to hear.

"You are not the first person to ask me about this, Baseem. I will tell you the same thing I have told others when they came to me with questions about the homosexuality over the years. Allah is mysterious and unknowable even to those of us who study the Qur'an and Islamic law for our whole lives. There is room in Islam to love all people irrespective of how they choose to live their lives. Even if they chose to commit what we regard as sins. There are many people who will tell you that 'Islam says...' but Islam cannot speak directly for itself. The words of the Prophet are interpreted by the imperfect minds of man and their teachings bent and shaped to fit the society those imperfect minds find themselves in. Do you think there is something evil about this girl's nature?"

Mo shook his head. Marceline was one of the best people he knew.

"She's really clever and kind and really strong. She has been through a ton of awful stuff and still really cares about people. But being gay is a terrible sin. I just do not want her to be damned when the final hour comes and her soul is judged." he replied.

"Homosexuality is regarded as a terrible sin by most Muslims, yes. But you must remember Baseem, that to be human is to commit sins. Nobody walks this earth free from sin. And Allah creates all things, all people and all feelings. You know that people have free will, yes? And that animals do not?" the imam asked.

"Yeah, but Marceline is not an animal." Mo replied, confused.

"No, she is not. But consider this. Recently it has been discovered by science that homosexual acts occur naturally between animals. The Qur'an teaches us that animals can only obey the laws of Allah. Animals cannot sin and they cannot choose to be immoral or be held responsible for their actions. If animals can naturally become homosexuals then what do you think that means for people, Baseem? Knowing what you do of Islam and of humans and your own personal relationship with Allah?"

Mo thought about it hard. He frowned down at his hands as though he might find the answers to his questions in the dirt under his fingernails. The imam had a reputation in the local community for being a man of deep wisdom and perception; if he was asking Mo to examine his own thoughts and feelings then it must because he thought Mo might already know the answer.

"I think it means that Allah is truly mysterious and that the rules set out in the Qur'an are for all time. That they are for all situations and all societies but not always at the same time? That they have flexibility in their interpretation? I think it means that Allah has left room to celebrate diversity if the world we live in becomes diverse. That I can love and support a homosexual woman because she is also a human, because now that we know more of Allah's law we can appreciate that He created her that way." Mo finally replied hesitantly, still looking at his nails.

"I am glad you have come to that conclusion, Baseem. What it means to be a Muslim is for each of us to personally define no matter that we are part of a wider community. Your relationship with Allah is your own. It is personal and unfathomable to anybody but you. Something which you feel in your heart as well as living every day. You understand what I am saying? In the same way that there are only a tiny percentage of us who support terrorism there are not many who will agree with your view of homosexuality. It is controversial and what a lot of people will say is 'progressive', as though that is a bad thing to be. But never let them tell you that the understanding you have gained through your private relationship with Allah is worth less than their own journey. Allah created you and He gave you the wisdom to understand this world. He does not make mistakes. Is your friend happy?"

"I think she would be if it was not for her father coming back and ruining her life. He is pure evil. He murdered her mother and brother and he burned her skin deliberately and he tried to kill her too. But yeah, I think that girl would make her happy. She was happier when they started seeing each other than I have ever seen her and I am ashamed that it made me jealous. But now she is sad again and after everything she's been through I just want her to be at peace. I do not care who makes that happen."

The old imam smiled a little distantly. He was glad he had been able to help the boy. As he had every hour of every day for the last thirty years he felt the old familiar stab of intense grief and regret that he had not been able to save his own son when he had been overwhelmed by such feelings. But the time when he could have helped Jamil was long gone. Nobody walked the earth free from sin and his was that he had turned his son out onto the streets. Jamil had frozen to death one hard winter's night a couple of years later, still alone and homeless after his father had turned his back on him. It was a burden of sin the imam would carry for all eternity. An understanding with Allah that had cost him more than he'd ever wanted to pay.

...

 _It was the smell of smoke drifting through from the hall that first alerted her that something was wrong. Mum had said no more ice cream after dinner but she'd sneaked through to the kitchen anyway. Marcy was determined that she would get just a little more for herself while her mother was upstairs helping Marshall get his overnight bag ready._

 _Without even bothering to close the door to the freezer Marcy dropped the tub of ice cream and ran back through to the hall. She skidded to a halt in horror when she found it full of leaping flames that hadn't been there just a minute ago. Suddenly she felt sick with terror; her heart was thudding wildly in her chest and she felt like she couldn't breathe around the choking panic surging through her. She'd never known a fear so deep in her brief seven years of life._

 _"MUM!" she screamed, but there was no reply. Instead there was a bang in the kitchen and she whirled in time to see a man she didn't recognise drop a lit match next to an empty petrol can almost exactly where she'd been standing a moment before. Then the whole kitchen lit up in orange flames too and the stranger disappeared through the back door and locked it after himself. She wouldn't learn that they'd been deliberately trapped in the house until much later._

 _Marcy ran through to the lounge where the flames were just beginning to take hold of the sofa and managed to snatch Hambo to safety before he went up in smoke too. She backed away and sat down as far away from the fire as she could get. She huddled up against the radiator under the window and tried to squeeze herself into a protective ball around her favourite teddy. In just half a minute the door had become blocked by a wall of flame. There was no way she was getting back out into the hall again._

 _"It's gonna be ok, Hambo." she whispered to the bear. "Mum's upstairs and she's gonna call the firemen and Uncle Simon's gonna come and get us. Don't be scared."_

 _But she was filled with a deeper fear than she'd even known could exist and as she waited the fire grew. Still nobody came. The room was filling with smoke and breathing was getting hard. Instinctively Marcy knew she had to get out before the smoke overwhelmed her._

 _Marceline began to cry in fear and humiliation. She must have peed her pants when she wasn't paying attention because now they were wet and uncomfortable. Dammit she was a big girl; she didn't have accidents anymore! But she was more terrified than she'd ever been in her life. She didn't understand what was happening. More than anything Marcy wanted Marshall to come and pick her up, tell her she was a silly potato, throw her onto his back and run away from the fire. Or even Daddy. As scary as he could be sometimes Daddy could fix anything._

 _Something heavy hit the ceiling above her head and the room shook around her. Marcy let out a terrified shriek and leapt up, unable to sit still any longer. Normally she wasn't allowed to touch the windows but she knew they opened into their tiny front garden if you pulled the handle up and pushed outwards. She scrambled onto the sill and tugged on the handle with all the strength in her thin little arms._

 _It didn't budge. There was something weird in the lock that looked like a liquid that had gone solid. Later Simon would gently explain to her that it was superglue; somebody had been in the house and superglued all the locks shut to stop them escaping. It must have been earlier that day, probably when her mother had collected her from school. Marcy tugged desperately on the window handle while the room around her burned. She panted hard against the horror and smoke filling her chest._

 _Without any warning at all the curtains just above her head went up in flames too. They were the heavy plush velvet kind; the type that were unbelievably flammable. And as the fire took them they twisted, melted, fell away from the curtain rail. They landed hard on her back and burned instantly through the thin cotton shirt she was wearing. Long gloopy strands of molten plastic blazed against her skin and Marceline screamed like she'd never screamed before. The pain was more intense than she'd even known could exist. There should have been Simon's arms wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and his rough panicked voice telling her he was going to get her out. But nobody came to save her and this time Marceline burned alone._

She must have screamed in her sleep too because suddenly the blazing room dissolved around her. Ash was shaking her awake and flicking the lights on as he hushed her in a low anxious voice.

"Hey, keep it down! You want Hunson coming in here to see what all the noise is about?" he hissed at her blearily.

"It hurt so bad." she sobbed quietly in reply as she snuggled up against his muscular bare chest. Human contact was the only thing that would help after her nightmares. It was the only way she could dispel the lingering terror of the fire that always followed her back into the waking world. Ash stiffened up for a moment as she hugged him before he awkwardly let his hands drift down to pet her hair.

"Yeah, I know. You were dreaming about the fire?" he asked her quietly.

"Yeah. But Simon didn't come this time and I was just alone and burning." she replied around the shivers that she couldn't quite seem to control. "And it still hurts. Every time I dream about it I can feel it happen again."

He obviously didn't know how to reply to that. Ash just nodded and continued petting her hair comfortingly. He yawned around one hand and glanced over at the clock on the opposite wall.

"Babe, it's nearly five in the morning. You should go back to sleep."

She shook her head; there was no way she could sleep again after such a vivid nightmare. It was the worst she'd had in years. She knew Ash was trying his hardest for her and she appreciated him being there but more than anything she just wanted Simon to hug her and bring her a glass of juice. When she'd woken from night terrors in the past they'd always sat up together and talked about cricket and archaeology until the sun came up and Marceline had to get ready for school. Or Bonnie, she thought desperately. Bonnie wouldn't want to talk about cricket but maybe she'd massage the scars with her lovely cool hands again and kiss Marcy's neck and soothe her with a completely different kind of touch. At that moment she missed the redhead so intensely it was like a physical pain.

"I'm gonna go make myself some tea or something. You should go back to sleep." she murmured to Ash after a few minutes. The shaking had finally subsided and she felt too awkward and uncomfortable to stay skin to skin with him like that. He nodded tiredly and dropped his hands from her hair before rolling back over under the blankets.

Sharing a bed with a man was uncomfortable and weird for Marceline but she was starting to get used to it. For the look of the thing Ash slept shirtless but Marcy had refused to even consider just stripping down to her bra and panties. She had pyjama shorts and a t-shirt on so it was a simple thing to just slip from the room as Ash flicked the lights off again and pad quietly down the darkened hall.

There was no noise from the room her father was now occupying, not even snoring. It had been Simon's old bedroom before he'd had to move. When she was younger the sounds of her uncle's loud grating snores had been a comfort on sleepless nights; she'd always been able to hear that he was right there. It made her unreasonably angry that her father had just taken over the bedroom without even asking. He'd shoved the remainder of Simon's things into a pile of old boxes and suitcases then piled them in a messy heap in the hall right by the door. They were the precious possessions of an extraordinary man who'd lived an incredibly complex and rich life and Marcy wanted to scream at him not to touch Simon's things. She cast a dark scowl at the closed door as she passed it. As soon as she could find a safe way to get the recording to Earle that bastard would be gone; she just hoped it would be enough.

Marceline grabbed her ukulele from the lounge and then crept into the kitchen and out of the back door onto the thin metal balcony and fire escape. The stalks of the summer's sunflowers she'd grown there were still sticking up from their pots but they were brown and dead now and beginning to rot back down into the soil. It was getting too late in the year for any of her flowers to bloom. Still they'd brought her joy all summer long and if she managed to avoid ending up in prison she might try to grow some next year in memory of her formally happy life. Marcy sat next to the empty pots and let her fingers touch the cool damp earth in reverence of the beautiful things it grew.

"I know how much you loved sunflowers, Mum." Marcy began quietly to the night air. "And roses too. I was thinking I might get sunflowers all around my ankles for my next tattoo but I don't know how well the yellow will show up on my skin. You'd have called it a 'desi problem'. You know I spent a long time being uncomfortable with using that word to describe myself? But I understand better now, Mum. Your Indian heritage was just as important to you as your Russian. We're desi girls as well as Moscow girls. I'm proud of it now. I miss you and Marshall so much. Wanted to play your favourite song for you again. I know I sing it all the time but you never ever got sick of hearing it, did you?"

Marcy lifted her ukulele like she was showing it off to the starless sky for a moment then lowered it back to playing level and began to strum the familiar chords.

" _Hold me close and hold me fast,_

 _This magic spell you cast._

 _This is La Vie En Rose._

 _When you kiss me heaven sighs_

 _And though I close my eyes,_

 _I see La Vie En Rose._

 _When you press me to your heart,_

 _I'm in a world apart._

 _A world where roses bloom._

 _And when you speak angels sing from above._

 _Everyday words seem to turn into love songs._

 _Give your heart and soul to me._

 _And life will always be_

 _La Vie En Rose."_

"Your Mum used to sing that song so much. I used to joke that it was the only one she knew the words to. That's what really gets me, the way she'd get so absorbed by that one tune. It was the first dance at our wedding."

Hunson's voice made her jump and look around, mortified that he'd caught her feeling sentimental when she was trying so hard to hide all of her emotions from him. A wave of fresh hatred tried to force its way up from her heart but it was countered by the same unexpected blossom of pity she'd felt the day before when she'd heard him confess in the graveyard. For all that he was a cold and vicious bastard Hunson really did miss her mother. Marcy stared at him and struggled to think of something to say. Her thoughts spun chaotically; she felt intensely weird and conflicted.

"I, err, I miss her too." she mumbled after an uncomfortably long pause.

"I heard you shout out. Bad dreams, Pumpkin?" he asked sympathetically as he took a seat next to her and wrapped the woollen blanket from the back of the sofa around her shoulders. Marcy tried not to be grateful; the night was colder than she'd expected and she was just wearing shorts and a thin shirt. But she still hated him. His small gestures of kindness now couldn't make up for all the evil things he'd done.

"Yeah, nightmares." she replied quietly, avoiding his searching gaze.

Hunson sighed and stared out at the small patch of grass their balcony overlooked. If Marceline had been forced to guess she'd maybe have hedged that something was bothering him but she didn't really want to know. She didn't want to have an emotional conversation with him or connect with him in any way. She wished he'd been the one that had burned or that he'd died in prison or just never left. Wished he'd just go away and stop existing; stop ruining her life. She balled her fists against the impotent fury that being so close to her father caused.

"I wrote letters, you know." Hunson announced unexpectedly. "Wrote a ton of them. Every single week for years and years. I sent you birthday cards too. Told you I was proud of you and I loved you. That you were my special little girl and I hadn't forgotten about you. And you know what? I found them all in a drawer in Simon's room yesterday. Only the first couple of them were even opened. He'd just bundled them all up together and put them away. I guess he never showed them to you did he? Guess that's why you never came to visit your old man in jail, right?"

"Oh. I guess so, yeah." Marcy replied. It was all she could think to say. What was she even supposed to do with that information? Simon had tried to protect her from the continuing trauma of having contact with the man who'd scarred her? However Hunson had been expecting her to react to that news he was going to be disappointed because it was exactly what she'd have expected from her wonderful uncle.

"I know you think that I'm a monster." Hunson continued when she didn't say anything else. "But I swear to you, Marceline. I loved your mother more than any man has ever loved any woman. I loved her so much it was like I'd had my heart pulled out of my chest when she died. Like I'd died right along with her. And I had nothing to do with the fire; I swear it on her grave. Whatever Simon might have told you about that night he said because he was angry and hurt. He lost her too. You know how close they were and I guess he needed someone to blame. He chose me because he never thought I was good enough for Claudia. All I can think is that whoever set the fire was trying to kill me, not you or Marshall. Perhaps it was someone who was angry with the family or someone who wanted to take me out to better their own position but I've never been able to work out who it could have been. It was just a tragic accident that you were home and I wasn't that night. But you're all I have left of her now. You're our little girl. And I'm finally back, Pumpkin. I'm here for you. You and me. We're a team. We'll make it all right again, yeah?"

At least it had strangled the weird twist of sympathy she'd been feeling for him. Hunson was still lying through his bastard teeth to her. She'd heard him confess to ordering the fire less than twenty four hours earlier and heard him tell her mother's grave that he wished she'd died instead of Marshall because she was useless and stupid. In that moment she despised him so intensely she could barely breathe around it. She was half choked by the depth of her contempt for him.

Oblivious to her internal turmoil Hunson slid an arm around her unresisting shoulders and pulled her into a close hug.

"You and me against the world, baby girl." he murmured against her hair. "I am so proud of you, you know."

"I should go back to bed before Ash misses me." she replied, squirming away from him uncomfortably.

"Of course. You've got yourself a keeper there my girl. He's a fine man and strengthening our links to the Bolshakovs is a smart move. I'm looking forward to giving my father-of-the-bride speech."

Hunson flashed a proud smile and she tried to arrange her face into an answering smile, hoping it didn't look too twisted or show any of the sick disgust seething in the pit of her stomach. He followed her back into the dark apartment and pulled her into another tight hug outside her bedroom door.

"I love you, Marcy." Hunson told her quietly.

"Love you too, Daddy." she lied. Marceline crossed her fingers behind his back in the only small gesture of defiance she could manage at that moment. Soon she would work out a way to get the tape to Earle. She hoped there'd be a chance to tell Hunson how deeply she hated him before they dragged him back to prison.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm trying to post a little quicker so I can get this story finished and focus on a couple of my other projects. So have another chapter, you deserve it! Guess what? My return to university application is nearly ready to send and I'm changing my hours at work to allow me more time to do silly things like sleep and actually breathe between shifts until I return to being a student in September and hopefully not balls it up again. Exciting times!**

 **I'd like to send a special thank you to the ever so sweet AraxiaJustice13 who continues to be an absolute gold star sweetheart. Sending you love and kisses, sweetie! We are approaching the Dramatic Climax of this particular story so I hope you guys like your drama to be rather dramatic. If you've read any of my other stuff you'll know I don't tend towards quiet or gentle stories. But you've made it to chapter sixteen so I'm gonna assume you're ok with that.**

 **Content Warning: Alcohol (don't drink kids, see it has bad effects), common assault, injury, revelation.**

* * *

"Woah, what happened in here? Bonnie? Holy shit, did you get _drunk_?"

"Yup. No fooling you. 'm so damn drunk I can't even stand."

She shrugged and reached for the half empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table again. Finn grabbed it out of her hands before she could help herself to any more.

"Why d'you care anyway?" she slurred, fixing him with a bleary glare. "You fucking _left._ She left too. Everyone jus... leaves. M'dad left an then Neddy had to go and you left and now _she_ left. 'm so damn easy to leave."

Bonnie put her head down on her arms and closed her eyes against the suddenly spinning room. Finn was right to take the bottle away, damn him. She'd already had far too much to drink. Lydia was away for the night with her new boy toy at some fancy hotel that Bonnie was willing to bet any money wasn't as nice as the fancy hotel that Marceline had taken her to. She was alone in the apartment and miserable and there'd been a dusty bottle of vodka in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. She hadn't been able to think of a reason not to try drowning her sorrows. She'd heard it was pretty effective.

Wrong, it was awful. A thousand times worse than being sober. Most everything was blurred and softened apart from her misery which was so sharp she felt like it was stabbing her in the chest with every breath. And then Lydia had bloody gone and called Finn to come check up on her and he'd taken the bottle away. Maybe she just hadn't drunk enough yet?

"Bon, I'm worried about you." Finn told her, and he really did look it. It was difficult for her to focus completely on his face but from what she could tell his brows were pulled together into a frown and he was gazing down at where she was lying- wait when had she slid onto the floor?

"I'm fine." she tried to tell him, but it came out more like a weird slur and hiccough.

Finn wrinkled his nose and looked around. He was momentarily distracted by the soft crooning and piano music coming from the speakers in the corner; definitely not the usual kind of cheerful pop Bonnie normally played.

"What is this? What are you listening to? No offence Bon, but this sounds like the most depressing music ever written."

"S'Joni Mitchell. Marcy left her CDs in my car. S'Good. Sad, but really good. Like… she's sad too cause she made her baby cry an she doesn't have a river to skate away on. An Marcy really likes this kinda thing. I don't think she knows any music written after the early nineties actually. She's like, massively into Dad Rock. Finn, I miss her so much." Bonnie mumbled the last part quietly with her face still pressed against her arms. "I'm such a cliché. I think I'm in love with her."

"I know, Bon. You're the most stereotypical lesbian who ever lived and you're gonna feel like a bomb went off it your head tomorrow." Finn muttered as he gently took her arm and pulled her upright. "But you can't sleep on the lounge carpet. C'mon, up we go."

He slipped his other arm around her back and hefted her bodily up off the floor. When did Finn get so strong? He was only a little taller than she was and he'd always struggled to lift her in the past but now he was carrying her like she weighed no more than a child. Beyond her crippling self-loathing and the haze of alcohol Bonnie was impressed.

"Where'r we going?" she mumbled against Finn's shoulder.

"Bed. You need to sleep it off. We can talk about this in the morning when you've sobered up a bit." Finn replied. There was a heavy note of some strong emotion swirling under the surface of his words but Bonnie couldn't think clearly enough to tell what it was. Anger perhaps? Or weary amusement? She hoped it was affection. She really did care about Finn a lot.

"Oooh Finn's taking me to _bed_." she giggled. For some reason that was hilarious.

"C'mon, Bon. Don't say it like that."

This time she was absolutely certain it was discomfort colouring his voice. Despite the alcohol she knew him well enough to be able to tell that. She frowned and awkwardly hugged him as he carried her from the lounge down the hall to her bedroom.

"Sorry. I do love you, y'know?" she slurred against his ear. She noticed that Finn's face was hot where she rested her cheek against his, as though maybe he was blushing. Oh. It'd been a long time since she'd made him blush like that and without any warning Bonnie _missed_ him. She missed the uncomplicated easy relationship they'd had before his transition. Missed being able to read his body language so easily and knowing she could affect him physically just by being against his skin. It was weird having an ex-boyfriend but it caused an unexpected jab of warmth in her stomach to know he was thinking those kinds of thoughts about her. That _someone_ was. Finn was folding back the duvet on her bed and lowering her carefully but she clung on to him. She didn't want to lose that comforting closeness just yet.

"Hey lumpy, you're gonna need to let go of me." Finn told her with an awkward smile.

Instead of listening to him Bonnie tightened her arm around Finn's neck, pulled him forwards over her and mashed her lips against his clumsily. Finn tensed after a half second of shocked stillness and pushed away. He broke her grip around his neck and staggered back with wide shocked eyes.

"Listen, I know you're hurting right now. So I'm gonna let that one slide, right? But please, Bon. For both our sakes please don't ever do that again." Finn breathed after a long moment.

"Sorry! Finn, I'm sorry! I just... miss you. I miss- I dunno. Miss feeling normal. And you make me feel normal. Y'understand? Miss you."

"I miss you too. Christ, I miss you more than I want to tell you. But you know why we're just friends now and not anything else. It isn't me you want to kiss right now anyway, is it?" Finn asked her gently. He sat cautiously on the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet up to her shoulders but stayed just out of easy grabbing distance. Bonnie shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut again because the room spun dangerously when she did that. It turned into a distorted swirl of guilt and sickness that burned in the back of her throat and the corners of her eyes.

"I'm such a mess." she whispered. She turned her face into her pillow so Finn wouldn't see the shameful tears that were threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. "I haven't been outside in days then I went back to uni today and I screwed up in the lab and my project might be ruined. I have to see my student councillor tomorrow and... Finn I'm scared I've wrecked everything. Are you angry with me?"

"Shh, hey, it's gonna be alright. I'm not angry. I know you're sad and not thinking clearly." the blonde boy soothed. "You'll get up tomorrow and be hung over is all. You can have some codeine and lots of water. I'll make you a gross fried breakfast or some of Jake's magic bacon pancakes or something and you'll feel better. Then you can go to uni and tell your student councillor that you had a bad break up but you're over it now and want to get back into studying. Go nerd out in the lab and catch up on what you missed and fix your project. Right? We can go out at the weekend. You, me and Sue. We'll go to a lesbian bar and hook you up with some pretty little thing. One night and no strings and for the love of God, Bonnie, no _feelings_. But tonight you're absolutely not allowed to blame yourself, alright? None of this is your fault."

Bonnie nodded carefully. She could do that. If Finn believed in her then she could try to believe in herself too; at the very least to avoid letting him down again. And a casual hook up... well it wasn't her usual style but maybe being the one who left right after the sex for once would help her feel more in control? But something about what he'd said sounded too much like that awful letter. _None of this is your fault_. And then she was thinking about Marceline again.

"What if she's in trouble?" Bonnie whispered. "What if he's hurt her? Killed her? What if I wake up tomorrow and she's on the news because he murdered her like he did to her Mum?"

"I'm sure she's fine." Finn soothed as he stroked a stray strand of hair away from Bonnie's face. "She grew up with those shady dudes. I bet she can look after herself."

"But you don't _know._ I don't know either and it's driving me crazy! I mean, she didn't look fine when they were leading her off in handcuffs! What if she's already in prison? I could help-"

"No, you couldn't. What could you do? Bail her out? You've got no money. Provide her with a false alibi for whatever she's supposedly done? And then you'd go to jail for lying to a judge. There's literally nothing you can do, Bonnie." Finn cut her off with a sad shake of his head.

Abruptly Bonnie was angry. She was just boiling with it; her limbs were fizzing weirdly because Finn was right and there was literally nothing she could do and she _hated_ it.

"Her face was bruised! Didn't I tell you? Someone had hit her! I saw it, I saw her bruises! And that blonde man! Who was that man? If he hit her I'll fucking kill him! I should go, I should go over there right now, tell him-"

Strong hands were pushing her back into the mattress and as quickly as it had flared her temper died back down. She didn't resist as Finn tucked her back into the duvet.

"You'll stay away and leave her alone like she asked you to." Finn replied firmly. "You know I'm still sceptical about all this gangland stuff but if it is all true then you'll only make it worse for her by getting involved again. Just leave it, yeah? If you want to keep her safe then respect her wishes and stay away. Forget about her and let her live her life the way she wants."

"But she's not happy or safe."

"And as hard as that is to accept you can't just ride in on a white horse and save her. I'm sorry, Bon. You gotta let her go."

He stayed until her tears subsided; unsure if she'd fallen asleep or slipped into unconsciousness from the alcohol. But either way once Bonnie was softly snoring Finn grabbed a blanket from the closet in Lydia's empty room and curled up on the sofa. He sent a quick text to Jake to confirm their fears that Bonnie was in a really bad way and needed his support so he wouldn't be coming home that night. It took a long time for Finn to fall asleep too with the guilt swirling heavily through his chest. He knew she'd been even worse after he broke up with her and that time he hadn't been there to support her. Finn didn't really think he'd ever stop feeling guilty about that. In the darkness of Bonnie's lounge he let all of his unvoiced fears well back up. She could easily be right. Marceline could already be dead for all they knew.

...

Compared to Lydia's usual dates Johnny was a real catch. She practically glowed with pride as he held the door open for her to enter the swanky Oxford Street boutique he was taking her shopping in. They had dinner and a room booked at The Savoy and tomorrow he was going to take her sightseeing. She'd already seen most everything the city had to offer and she suspected he wanted her to play tour guide for him but that was fine. Johnny was a self-made business owner from some place in Scotland; Lyds hadn't really been paying attention when he told her where. And he was dreamy. Way dreamier than stupid Brad had been. She'd heard he was dating Melissa now anyway, the slut. Whatever, she didn't care. She was hanging off the arm of the hottest guy in London and he was rich too. Lydia had struck gold.

She paused from where she was holding up a hand dyed silk scarf for him to admire and stared over his shoulder with a frown.

"Something up, babe?" Johnny asked her worriedly. She shushed him distractedly. The girl who'd just entered the shop behind him was familiar. She knew that long mane of inky black hair but she couldn't quite place where from. If only she'd turn around so Lyds could see her face.

The girl finally turned and Lydia's eyes narrowed in dislike. It was that singer girl. The one who'd made Bonnie cry like a baby almost every night since she got home from being used as a fucking taxi service to the other end of the country and back. Girls who hurt her best friend didn't get a free pass from Lydia; especially not when they tried to cover it with some bullshit excuse about their Dad being some big time mafia boss. Bonnie had tried to explain more about that but Lyds hadn't been listening because she was too busy being outraged on her friend's behalf.

" _You_." she hissed. The girl spun around to face her with wide russet coloured eyes showing a surprising amount of shock and terror. _Yeah you should be terrified, you bitch._ Lydia thought in satisfaction.

"Lyds, hey, can we not do this here?" she asked quietly, almost in a whisper. The built blonde man she was with put a protective hand on her shoulder and glared at Lydia but that just made her even angrier. That tramp had already replaced Bonnie with some brainless guy after staging a big emotional coming out story to get her into bed? It made Lydia's blood boil in anger for her friend.

"Not do this here? Not do what? Not talk about how you made her _cry_ , you fucking bitch? About the crap you put her through because you're too much of a fucking coward to just be honest that you're fucking gay? How about how you lied through your teeth to get Bonnie into bed then fucking disappeared into the night with the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard? I've told some pretty huge lies in my time, Marceline, but I've never lied about someone being dead! You shameless _bitch!_ " Lydia finished it at a screech. She was more furious than she even knew how to express.

"Lyds, keep it down!" Marceline begged.

"Keep it down? What, so your pretty new Ken doll there won't hear the shocking truth that you're a fucking _lesbian?_ What's the matter, you don't like hearing it out loud? You liked it well enough when you were making eyes at Bonnie and letting her think the two of you had something special! You should see her, she's heartbroken! And it's all because of you! You're a lying, cheating slut!"

Her hand curled into a fist and she was halfway towards the other woman's face when the blonde man grabbed Marceline by the shoulder and whipped her out of the way just in time. Lydia changed the trajectory of her fist and it connected sharply with his nose instead. The cartilage crunched satisfactorily and even though her knuckles stung Lydia grinned savagely. His pretty nose was already beginning to swell and blood was trickling steadily down his expensive looking shirt.

"Lyds, Jesus, come on!" Johnny breathed as he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away before she could cause any more damage. "I'm so sorry mate. Here, if you need anything dry cleaned here's my card. Just bill the company."

He shoved a business card into the blonde man's unresisting hand and tugged Lydia out of the shop by her shoulder. They nearly walked into another tall man just inside the doorway. He was gaunt and much older than the couple inside; hovering like a menacing dark cloud and surveying them all with a deep scowl on his angular face. Johnny stood aside and let the older man pass but not before Lydia had a chance to stare hard at him. He had the same high cheekbones and sharp nose as his daughter but none of her warmth or grace. Lyds felt a cold chill slip down her spine. There was the man who had supposedly murdered half of his family in a jealous rage. The look he shot Lydia as he stalked past her was so glacial she suddenly had a much better idea of why Bonnie's ex was so scared of him. Why someone could think such a ridiculous story might be true after all. As the door swung closed behind them Lydia heard the older man growl in tones so cold they could have frozen lava.

"Go home, Ashar. We are leaving. Come on, girl."

Then Lyds and Johnny were standing on the pavement outside the shop and staring at each other in shock.

"What the hell, Lydia? What was that?" Johnny demanded with a frown as they hurried off down the street together.

"That lying slut in there hurt my friend! My roommate Bonnie, she's heartbroken because of her! She's had it really rough since her ex told her he was really a transgender guy- oh don't look like that Johnny, Finn's awesome- and that girl lied to her about all kinds of messed up stuff. She pretended she was all scared and nervous about coming out then lied about her Dad being some famous murderer so she didn't have to look Bonnie in the eye when she broke up with her. And all Bonnie's done since is cry and avoid everyone. Now that lying bitch is trawling around the shops with some blonde himbo in tow- what was I supposed to do?" Lydia finished her little speech with a frustrated growl.

"Well maybe not punch the guy? I mean he could just be her friend or something, you don't know. You can't just go yelling that someone's a lesbian in front of their probably-boyfriend! And Christ, Lyds, you can't go around punching people. But your roommate's lucky to have a friend like you. You're a really caring person in your own crazy way." Johnny added thoughtfully.

"You don't think I'm too crazy?" Lydia asked him. Suddenly she was worried that she'd scared him off with her outburst. Johnny just smiled at her; Lydia nearly swooned. Johnny was so dreamy when he smiled.

"I mean, yeah you're completely mental. But _too_ crazy? Nah. I think you're just the right level of crazy."

He pulled her up close and leaned in for a soft kiss, smiling against her lips. Lydia's roommate's weird maybe-lesbian ex could wait. Johnny had a date with a hot girl to think about.

...

"Hunson did this." Petya's eyes narrowed as he took in the mass of bruising and swelling around his son's broken nose. Ash was holding an ice pack against it and flinched away from his touch. Petya swore under his breath.

"No, Papa. A girl I didn't know. She mistook me for someone else, I think."

Ash was avoiding his father's eyes and Petya was no idiot. Whether it had been Hunson's fist that connected with his boy's face or someone else's he knew it was his old business associate who had caused his son to be injured that night. Hunson could slap his daughter all he wanted; it was sickening for a father to strike his child but there was nothing Petya could do to spare the girl. But nobody laid hands on his son or otherwise caused him to be harmed. It had gone on too long; Petya was absolutely done with being lied to because of Hunson Abadeer.

"You will tell me right now, what is this big secret the two of you are hiding? Why all this theatre? I don't want you mixed up with Hunson or his daughter if this is what happens when you are out with her. I know she is not your girlfriend. What are you hiding from me, Ash?" Petya demanded as he paced the length of the small lounge restlessly.

"I'm not hiding anything, Papa! I swear, I'm-"

"Do you think I will disapprove? Ashar, you are my only son. The day you were born I held you in my arms and promised I would love and protect you no matter what. And I would not normally push you to tell me when you are not comfortable but this charade has gone on long enough. It is too dangerous; I will not let you get hurt because of that girl when she is nothing to you. Just tell me, Ashar! I promise that will not love you any less because of it."

"Papa..." Ash began, but his voice shook with tears and he couldn't meet the old man's eyes. His father paused from his pacing and took a seat next to his son on the small sofa. He slipped an arm around Ash's shoulders and pulled him into a gentle hug. Perhaps he'd been too hard on the boy and pushed him further than he was ready for but Petya just wanted the truth. He wanted Ash to be honest with him so they could try to build a real father-son relationship.

"I mean it, Ash. I held you as a tiny baby and the first words I ever spoke to you were to tell you that I loved you more than anything in the world. I still do. No matter what you do, who you love or what you are. I will always love you and be proud to be your father. All I'm asking is to meet the real you, the son I want to love."

"Papa..." Ash tried again but he was unable to get the words out past his tears. He shook with silent sobs while his father held him and hummed the same old lullaby to him that he had when Ash had been a baby. Finally the boy's shoulders stopped shaking quite so hard and he found he could talk.

"I thought you would hate me. Thought you would turn me out onto the streets or organise someone from the family to 'take care' of me. Thought I would be an embarrassment to you, an abomination." he mumbled into his hands. He was still unable to look his father in the eyes.

"Why would you ever think that? Don't you know I love you more than the very air I breathe? You're my _son,_ my own flesh and blood. You are my life's work. The most precious thing in the world to me" Petya replied soothingly.

"Papa, I'm gay." Ash told him quietly.

"I know, son. And I still love you more than anything else in this world."

Ash broke down into tears again. He hugged his father back this time and tried to reply but was unable to form the words over the sobs of relief that he couldn't hold back.

"And Marceline, she was pretending to be your girlfriend because you thought I would reject you?" Petya asked after a few long minutes.

"Y-yeah. She, ah, we both knew how our fathers would react. I thought I knew. I guess Hunson won't be so accepting." Ash replied snottily as he wiped the tears from his face with shaking hands. Petya frowned at that.

"Why would Hunson care that you are gay? He's an old fashioned homophobe, yes. But you are not his son and I will not allow him close to you. It is none of his business if..." Petya trailed off. Something awful had occurred to him. "Ash, is there more? What else are you not telling me?"

Ash nodded, looking down at his hands again.

"It isn't just me. Marceline is gay too, I was the first person she came out to. We knew about each other since our teens. It was a perfect arrangement of convenience whenever we needed dates for the family but she's so scared of what he'll do to her if he finds out. She's absolutely terrified of him. We both are." Ash whispered.

"His own daughter, the only surviving Petrikov heir. If he finds out- we must help her, Ash. You owe her a huge debt of gratitude and I will not let Hunson destroy another member of his own family. If he finds out he will kill her like he killed her mother and brother."

Petya's face had turned pale in shock and horror. That his son and his goddaughter had both been hiding the same secret was too big a revelation to take in all at once; he would focus instead on making sure Marceline lived to see the next day. Petya knew how Hunson felt about queers in more graphic detail than he'd ever wanted. He'd witnessed him do far worse to them than he had done to anyone else in his long and violent career. If he found out his only surviving heir was also a homosexual and had been deceiving him this whole time- well Petya didn't want to think about what he might take it into his head to do to 'fix' her. He'd murdered his own wife and killed his child as an innocent bystander just for leaving the house too often without his permission.

"Come on, my boy. It is time we spoke with some people who can help us. Time to take responsibility like men. We are going to pay some of my old friends a visit and then we are going to speak with Simon Petrikov. Pray that we are not already too late."


	17. Chapter 17

**Strong trigger warnings for this chapter. Consider that this fic is M for sex and violence and the sex was pretty damn graphic. So. I just don't want anyone reading anything that could be triggering without being fully aware that that's what it is.**

 **As ever a huge thank you to my supporters, followers, favouriters and reviewers. And to my proof reader** **RaInBoWsKuLlDrOpS who is awesome. This chapter is dedicated to my beautiful fiancee too, because this whole fic was her idea and she has patiently helped me write it for ages as well as giving me a ton of material for my next project as well. I know I owe you another Continuum and I'm working on it, I promise! Just... yeah, got distracted by La Vie. Sorry.**

 **Content Warning: serious injury, violent homophobia, medical stuff. No laughs here I'm afraid.**

* * *

Marceline's fingers closed around the tiny remote for the microphone still hidden on her father's coat collar and she flicked the button to start the recording. She sent a tiny prayer of thanks to Fortuna, the Roman goddess of luck, because surely the odds of her still having the remote in her pocket and Hunson still wearing the bugged coat must be pretty small. Then her head smashed right through the glass top of her coffee table and slammed heavily into the floor.

"WHAT WAS SHE TALKING ABOUT? WHO WAS THAT GIRL?"

The last time Hunson had been that angry it had ended with her mother having to spend a week recovering in hospital. Claudia had told the doctors when they gently questioned her that she'd fallen down the stairs. Marcy might have only been seven years old but she'd been mature for her age and more than capable of interpreting the disbelieving looks the nurses had shot each other over her Mum's bruised head.

"She was talking to Ash, she's his ex. She was mad we were out together." Marcy managed to gasp out against the weird grinding pain in the back of her head. Hunson loomed over her and his hands balled into fists again.

"BULLSHIT! SHE WAS TALKING TO YOU!"

His booted foot came out of nowhere and smashed into the side of her mouth. Distantly Marceline heard herself laugh without a single shred of humour in her voice. It gurgled up through the blood welling in her throat without any conscious control on her part; it was bleakly hilarious because he was going to kill her now anyway even though she had the evidence she needed. It didn't matter what she said anymore. When Hunson flipped he lost touch with reason completely and he probably wouldn't even remember beating her to death; he just blacked out with rage. She'd thought she could just slip back into the persona of the perfect daughter for as long as it took to get him back into jail but she should have known better. That would have been too easy and nothing was ever easy for her, it hadn't been since she was seven years old. And now her father had found out she wasn't everything he'd thought she was and he was going to kill her for it. She wasn't even mad at Lydia about that because how could Lyds have known Hunson was a violent sociopath with anger management problems? He'd have found out one way or another and Marceline knew she deserved much worse than getting yelled at in the middle of a fancy clothes store by the petite girl for what she'd done to Bonnie.

 _Bonnie..._ At least she had been worth it, Marcy thought. Worth a thousand beatings for those precious few hours they'd spent together; she knew she'd do it again in a heartbeat if she had her time over again. It didn't surprise her at all that she was spending what were probably her last few minutes on Earth thinking about the redhead. Hunson's boot connected with her nose and she felt a sickening crunch against her skull right between her eyes. She squeezed them closed against the blossom of agony and instead tried to picture her mother's face as perfectly as possible.

 _I'm so sorry, Mum. I tried. You saw that I was trying, right? That I did everything I could? I let you down. I'm sorry._

His foot slammed into her ribs next and Marcy spat blood, eyes flying open again at the impact. She'd sprayed a decent mouthful of it across his trouser legs; she was hazily glad of that. They were a pale khaki and it'd be hell to get the stains out. Good, that was evidence. Maybe he'd go back to jail for her murder instead.

"...WHAT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT!"

Oh, sounds had gone weird too. His mouth worked furiously and his face contorted with rage but Marceline could only hear snatches of what he was saying. Her aching head was filled with a confused buzzing like white noise. Suddenly her view of the world tilted and the pain in her head ramped up a few more notches. Hunson had grabbed a fistful of her hair and was lifting her head and shoulders out of the wreckage of the coffee table by it, almost scalping her. She tried to focus harder on what he was hissing at her.

"-lie to me, you little bitch. I heard every word she spoke to you and I will not suffer deceitful little _queers_ in this family. Tell me everything right now, or I will fucking gut you and set your corpse on fire like I did with your worthless whore of a mother."

She coughed and there was even more blood welling in the back of her mouth. But he wanted to know and he was going to kill her anyway. So why not? Marceline was feeling weirdly reckless again like she had on that spectacular night after the gig up north. Adrenaline really did make her fearless, then. Briefly she wondered if she'd inherited that from her mother; perhaps Claudia had been reckless when she was in danger too.

"Y'really wanna know everything, Daddy? Fine. Doesn't matter anyway, not now. So I met a girl. She was so fucking beautiful, she made me feel stuff... and we had a hotel room together and yeah we were _sleeping together_. You really want the truth? I'm _gay,_ like, I fuck girls kinda gay _._ Always have been. I'm a fucking queer. And then you came back and fucking ruined everything. I broke up with her. Wouldn't let you near her, wouldn't let you hurt her like you hurt Mum. That was her friend so I guess I must've broken her heart pretty good. Fuck, I didn't wanna hurt her... Bon-"

His hand was clamped across her mouth and nose then, choking her. Marceline didn't think twice; she bit down as hard as she could until she felt bone crunch between her teeth and vaguely heard Hunson scream over the distracting buzz in her ears. Now his blood was in her mouth too but that was fine, more evidence. She didn't want whoever found her body to think she hadn't fought back. Marcy grinned dizzily up at him with lips ringed in fresh blood and unfocused punch drunk eyes.

She barely even felt his fist crash heavily into her face. Everything was getting too hazy and distant. It felt like she was struggling to push through a thick fog. Her father was roaring at her, screaming. She felt flecks of his spittle hit her face and somehow that was worse than the fist had been; a thousand times more disgusting. She couldn't make out the words completely but he was calling her all kinds of things as he hit her again and again. The snatches of his voice she could make out were screaming _faggot, whore, abomination!_ Her head ached so badly with a deep growing agony that felt like it was blossoming right in the middle of her brain. Hunson was slamming her face against the ground and it was all so surreal; she couldn't even really feel it. When was the last time she'd even seen the lounge from that angle? She must have been small, playing on Simon's rug while he read in his armchair or messed around with the compact electric piano. Before she even moved in, probably. Those had been good times. Better to think about that and wait for the end because reality was too horrifying to deal with.

The last thing Marceline could really remember with any clarity was hearing a huge _crack!_ somewhere above her and the feeling of being dropped back to the floor. The next second something heavy slumped down next to her and lay still. An unexpected voice spoke into her ear, full of panic and terror, bringing her back from her memories.

"Marcy hold on, I called an ambulance. I hit him, oh Allah forgive me, I hit him so hard with the cricket bat right in his head and I think I have killed him. Forgive me, I could not let him hurt you more."

She tried to open her eyes and only managed it for a few brief seconds.

"B-Mo?"

"Yeah, I am here. I heard him beating you. I heard it through the floor. I could not just let it happen, oh Marcy he was going to kill you. I'm so sorry, please don't die. I killed a man and you are bleeding and you're not allowed to die…"

B-Mo was sobbing hard and it was the weirdest thing she'd ever heard because Mo had never cried in front of her, not once. Marcy tried to lift her arms to hug him but the world spun crazily and went dark when she tried to move. Mo's tearful voice was distant and jumbled. It seemed to be blending into the growing wail of sirens outside her window.

"Please stay with me Marcy, stay awake, come on..."

 _Stay... stay..._

...

Mo squinted at the messy address he'd copied down from Marcy's scrap book. He'd felt weird about going through her stuff that morning but he knew she kept the details of everyone she'd ever met written down the old fashioned way since she changed her phone so often and there was someone he desperately needed to contact. The row of old red brick terraced houses looked indistinguishable from all the others he'd walked past and Mo didn't really know his way around Leyton but he was determined. He was going to find Marceline's girlfriend if he had to knock on every door in London.

There, that was the house he was looking for. Two hundred and twenty eight Palace Green Road. It looked the same as any other house on the street; a little run down and obviously a short term student rental. When he squinted at the upstairs window there was a small pride flag sticker in one corner and he was sure that must be a sign and that it was the right house. He lifted his hand to the black painted door and knocked nervously.

A girl answered after a few long anxious minutes and his heart leapt into his mouth with nerves and recognition. That was her, Marcy's redhead. She looked like he'd woken her from a deep sleep and from the bemused expression on her face it was obvious she didn't recognise him. Her clothes were crumpled and blue eyes bleary; they were ringed with dark circles and she looked like she'd been up half the night crying. Mo's heart twisted with sympathy when he thought about the further pain he was going to have to cause her. There was a musty scent of stale alcohol on her breath when she spoke and Mo tried hard not to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"Um, hello, are you Bonnie Sugar?" he asked, careful to keep his tone respectful.

"That's me, and whatever you're selling-"

"I'm not here to sell you anything! I'm a friend of Marceline-"

The redhead slammed the door closed in his face. Mo blinked, that hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. He knocked again.

"GO AWAY!" a voice yelled through the closed door. Mo frowned and pushed open the letterbox instead to speak through the small slit.

"She is hurt! She is in the hospital and I think she would want to see you! Her father hurt her and he is in the hospital too because I hit him with a Sachin Tendulkar autographed cricket bat and now it is worthless!"

He cringed, why did his mouth run away with him like that sometimes? But it was the truth; Marcy would probably be furious when she found out her uncle's beloved collectible cricket bat was now covered in her father's blood and had been taken away as evidence by the police. Mo jumped back as the door swung open again. This time it was a short boy with floppy blonde hair hanging around his face staring back at him with wide eyes. Bonnie was sitting on the staircase leading up to the apartment above with her head in her hands; Mo thought she might be crying.

"I think you should come up to the lounge, mate." the blonde boy said. Mo vaguely recognised him as one of the people Marcy had been hanging with after her gig at the Fox and Hounds. There was something a little soft and young about his face and B-Mo's first impression of him was that he was probably really kind. Mo immediately liked him.

He shuffled into the narrow hallway and the blonde boy turned to the girl who was still crying on the stairs. He gently wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up into a standing position.

"Come on, lumpy. You can get yourself cleaned up and get some headache meds while I talk to this guy and find out what's happening, ok? Get changed and I'll come with you to the hospital."

"She's hurt, Finn." she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. But it's gonna be ok." The boy- Finn- helped Bonnie up the stairs with Mo trailing them awkwardly. At the top of the staircase he gave her a gentle push towards one of the doors that Mo supposed must lead to her bedroom and she stumbled off to get changed and fix her face. Finn entered another door that lead to a small lounge decorated with a lot of pink and purple fuzzy cushions and old Audrey Hepburn movie posters.

"I guess this is gonna take a while, I'll make us some tea." Finn told him over his shoulder.

Mo just nodded and sank down into one of the sofas. He was still quite numb from the night before. He'd come straight from the hospital after stopping at Marcy's apartment to copy down the address and he hadn't slept yet. He'd been too consumed with worry for his friend to stop and rest.

After a few minutes Finn came back balancing a tea tray and plopped down on the sofa next to Mo, shooting him a tired look.

"Guess you had a pretty eventful night, too?" he asked with a bittersweet quirk to his mouth that might have been a smile under other circumstances.

"Yeah. I heard him through the ceiling; Marceline is my upstairs neighbour. And I heard what that bastard was doing so I came up to help her. My Dad told me to not to get involved but her father would have killed her. He said he was going to. I saved her life." Mo added the last part with a small amount of pride although it was tempered by regret that he hadn't been fast enough to stop her getting hurt.

"We should wait for Bonnie. She needs to hear this too." Finn murmured.

They sat in silence sipping their tea until she shuffled back into the lounge in a different set of clothes and her sleep-wild hair brushed back down into a smooth ponytail. She'd scrubbed her face until her cheeks were pink and looked at least more awake than she had when she'd answered the door. Bonnie sat down across from them and fixed Mo with a cold glare.

"Tell me, then. Tell me how she got hurt."

Mo took a steadying breath and launched into his story.

"I knew something was wrong because she slammed the door really hard when they came home last night and normally she is so careful not to disturb us. I am her downstairs neighbour and the floors are so thin in our building. And then I heard shouting and he was screaming at her. Her father, he is just out of jail and he burned her mother to death and he burned Marcy too but she survived-"

"I know about the fire, get to the point." Bonnie growled. Mo frowned but continued talking.

"Ok, so I heard them argue last night and I heard something smash against the floor right over our kitchen where her lounge is. Something really heavy hit the ceiling and the whole room shook and then he was screaming again. I heard him shout that he was going to kill her and that she was dirty and a whore. So I called the police and ambulance then I ran up the stairs. Marcy gave me her spare key ages ago so I just let myself into her apartment. Her uncle's cricket bat was in the hall. Someone had left it with a pile of boxes from his old bedroom and I grabbed it. I could see her father beating her; he had her by the head and was slamming her against the ground over and over. I couldn't let him hurt her. I grabbed the bat and I swung it at the back of his head as hard as I could. I thought I'd killed him but the hospital let the police take him in this morning instead. They said he was just concussed. They arrested him for attempted murder and they said I will not face prosecution because it was a clear act of defence."

"Is she ok?" Bonnie's voice was a lot softer than it had been and her face was so pale she looked like she might faint. She seemed to have forgotten all about her hostility to Mo when she'd heard his story. He looked down at his fingernails, unable to meet her eyes.

"She is in intensive care and she has not woken up. The doctors said her brain was swollen, they said she was bleeding into the space inside her skull. And she might be too badly hurt, she might not be the same when she wakes up. If she wakes up. They don't know yet."

...

It was a numb kind of surreal shock that filled Bonnie like a hazy cloud as she stared at her lover's motionless face. She felt like she was floating a few inches off the polished hospital floor as the nurse showed them into the small room. For some reason all that she could think was the room was too bright and it must be hurting Marceline's eyes; someone should switch a couple of the harsh white lights overhead off.

Marcy's entire face was just a swollen mass of darkening bruises. She was unrecognizable to anyone who didn't know her well; just a tangle of ugly looking injuries and cuts held together with surgical tape and wires. She had a shattered cheekbone and eye socket, broken nose and a hairline fracture extending right across her forehead. Mo had explained on the way that the doctor told him that the break along her head might have saved her life because it had given her brain a little extra room when it began to swell. There was a tube down her throat helping her breathe and a surgical hole in the side of her skull letting out the extra pressure inside her head. Bonnie had almost fainted with horror when she'd discovered that Marcy's heart had stopped twice in surgery and they'd struggled to bring her back the second time. She'd been medically dead for over a minute.

"Someone should tell her uncle." she heard herself say, although she had no recollection of choosing to say it.

"I already called his care home. They are trying to organise a carer to bring him in to see her." Mo replied quietly. He took Bonnie's arm and gently guided her into the cheap plastic chair by the bed. She sank into it guiltily; her knees might not have held her up for much longer anyway. Distantly she knew she was deeply in shock and that things weren't making sense the way the usually did. Everything felt so unreal.

"I, uh, I'm gonna take Mo for a coffee, right?" Finn told her awkwardly. "I'll be on my mobile if you need me."

She felt herself nod and heard the door open and close a couple of seconds later. Bonnie wasn't sure where they'd gone or why but she was grateful for the opportunity to talk to her lover alone. She carefully took Marcy's hand and pressed a soft kiss against it.

"I'm so sorry." Bonnie whispered, although she wasn't sure exactly what she was apologising for. Perhaps when she recovered from the shock a little more she'd know. She sat for a long time just staring at Marcy's broken face. At length the door opened again and a young doctor entered.

"I'm her girlfriend." Bonnie heard herself reply to some question from the doctor. She was, she decided. She didn't accept the breakup letter. She didn't believe Marcy had written it when she was thinking clearly and she wasn't going to let things end until they'd had a chance to talk it over. No, she wasn't going to sit there and be her ex. She was Marceline's girlfriend.

The solemn faced young doctor proceeded to explain something about brain lobes and trauma and swelling; something about Glasgow coma scales and how Marcy was lucky to be alive. Bonnie wanted to snarl at her. Lucky to be a vegetable for the rest of her life? Lucky her own father had beaten her into a coma? The doctor laid her hand on Bonnie's arm and said something that might have been comforting or might have been more medical babble. Bonnie just shrugged her off and shook her head.

"We've stopped the swelling to her brain but I have to make you aware that there's a chance your partner may not wake up again. She's had a critical injury and it really is touch and go at this stage. But she made it through the night and we're hopeful that she might wake up."

The doctor said some other stuff about leaving her contact details with reception and in lieu of any next of kin they'd let her know about any change in Marcy's condition. Bonnie nodded distractedly but never once took her eyes off Marceline's motionless damaged face. Eventually the doctor stood up and left. She squeezed Bonnie's shoulder again thought the redhead barely felt it. She wanted to know what they'd done with Marcy's hair; she was so vain about it and she'd be so upset when she woke up and found most of it gone. It seemed cruel that it would end up in a medical waste incinerator. They'd cut off most of her silky waist length mane and now it hung limply above her shoulders instead. She looked younger, Bonnie thought. Or perhaps that was the mass of medical equipment covering and surrounding her; making her look so small and vulnerable. Someone had shaved a fist sized chunk from the left side of her head where they'd performed emergency brain surgery and some clown of a nurse had tried to style it around her bandages. They'd gotten the parting all wrong. Bonnie stood shakily and gently rearranged it.

"You're going to get better." she told Marceline with absolute conviction. "However long it takes, I'm going to be here. And you're going to walk out of this hospital and straight into the passenger side of my crappy car. I still have your mixtape in the player. You're going to listen to it with me. You promised, remember? That's not open for negotiation. Then I'm taking us up the motorway; we'll go back to Newcastle and go to the science museum. We can stay in our hotel and I'll give you a massage again, anything you want. Just please wake up, you have to wake up. Please, Marcy."

After another indeterminate amount of time the door opened again and Bonnie still didn't turn to see who'd come in.

"Miss Sugar? My name is Detective Hope, could I speak with you?"

She did look around at that. There was a young man with curly yellow-blonde hair and a chubby cherubic face standing in the doorway. Bonnie stood and shook his hand.

"You are Miss Petrikova's partner?" he asked in a respectful tone. Bonnie nodded again. "How much of her troubled relationship with her father were you aware of?"

"Um, only what was in the papers at the time. Nothing that wasn't public record. She doesn't like talking about him." Bonnie replied croakily. She felt instinctively that she shouldn't mention Marceline's certainly of her father being her mother's murderer. The detective nodded encouragingly and she wracked her memory for anything she could add. "She kept me away from him after he was released from prison. Said he was a violent homophobe and he couldn't find out about our relationship." God, she'd been so right. All kinds of horrified guilt twisted through her stomach when Bonnie remembered that Marceline had been trying to protect her from the exact same kind of violence she'd ended up suffering. If things had been different it could be her lying too still in the hospital bed covered in tubes and wires, or Marceline identifying her body in the morgue.

"Are you aware of any legal or financial motives for the assault? We're treating this as attempted murder and you should know that your girlfriend was trying to gather evidence about her father's involvement in her mother's death, too. Anything you can tell me about that could help."

Bonnie shook her head; she'd had no idea Marcy was spying on her father but it was exactly the kind of dangerous and slightly insane thing she would do. Perhaps that's why he'd tried to beat her to death. Perhaps it has nothing to do with Bonnie and their brief relationship after all. She felt a slight shift in the blanket of guilt weighing across her mind.

"Well here's my card, please call me if you think of anything." the detective sighed. He placed a small square of white card on the small nightstand by Marceline's bed and took a moment to stare at her motionless face. He squeezed Bonnie's shoulder too before he left and she turned back to staring guiltily at the girl lying too silent and still in the hospital bed.

When Finn and Mo finally returned Bonnie was curled up in the chair by Marceline's bed with her head resting on the pillow next to the unconscious girl. She was fast asleep and still clinging to her girlfriend's limp hand.


	18. Chapter 18

**Extra long chapter today, because I had an extra scene I wanted to include. There's a lot of hate for Lydia since the last few chapters and I guess that's understandable. But bear in mind that LSP fucking stuff up for everyone because she doesn't listen is pretty much 50% of her character development. She turned up to Tree Trunks' wedding in a wedding dress, infected Finn with the lumps and once used a time device to maybe kill a guy she liked, just because. So AU Lydia by comparison is pretty restrained.**

 **There's a revelation in this chapter that I wasn't sure I should even include, but in the end my proof readers convinced me to keep it because it makes certain characters a little more 3D and ties up a loose end quite satisfyingly. I hope it makes sense in the context of the story.**

 **Content Warning: Harry Potter spoilers. Yeah, seriously, for the third and fourth books. Medical stuff, historical injury description, implied murder.**

* * *

At first it was like a tiny flash in the darkness; just occasional little snippets of information dancing like darting fish against the blank background. The more they happened the longer the flashes lasted, each with a bottomless stretch of blackness in between.

"...Marcy..."

"...see you, she's..."

"...won't you wake up? I feel so helpless..."

"...mother would have been proud of you, kid. It wasn't supposed to end like this..."

"...the end I just stormed out, he can be a dick about it all he wants but he doesn't get to tell me..."

"...getting so thin, like you're disappearing right in front of my eyes. I can't even talk to anyone about it, except Neddy. Please wake up, I can't..."

"...when Marcy was five and we went to the circus? She was so scared of that elephant until the ringmaster let us feed it an apple. Legs like tree trunks, do you remember, darling?"

Then slowly it became more like swimming but so much more difficult. It felt like she was struggling slowly upwards through some sort of thick black gunk like treacle or tar, only nothing at all like that really. Then there was a voice that didn't immediately fade into a flash of confusing noise and words were filtering very slowly through the darkness but they made no sense.

"-fter about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had got past his dragon, and seized the golden egg. Very good indeed! Bagman was shouting. And now the marks from the judges! Seriously, this is only going to go one way. Like, I bet Harry will win and Cedric will be annoyed. You would probably say these books are lame but I've never read them before. I hope you don't mind me reading them to you. I used to think I could totally have written all this. Like, it is just magic and stuff for kids. But then there was the big Prisoner of Azkaban reveal, Pettigrew is Scabbers. I did not see that one coming. Do you think Harry will end up getting together with Ginny or is he gay? I think maybe, I get these little hints. Like he thinks Bill is so cool and he seems to spend an awful lot of time trying to get Malfoy's attention. Hassan yelled at me for saying that, though. He still thinks gays are bad. But I have reached an understanding with Allah. I do not care what Hassan or anyone else says. I just wanted you to know that I won't turn by back on you."

The words were jumbled to her ears and meant nothing but the voice though, the voice was familiar. It reminded her of somewhere sunny with sunflowers outside the window and a row of neat cupboards filled with craft supplies, retro games consoles and tangled guitar leads. It sounded like sweet spiced tea and sneaking sound equipment out through the basement door, the one they weren't supposed to have the key code for. Happy times, laughter. But the laugh that went with the voice was missing and that wasn't right.

She wanted to say- something. She wasn't sure what. Some noise or word to let him know she could hear him. It was more than the confused flashes had inspired from her so far. But the voice was getting distant and more confusing and the blackness was swirling closer and swimming was too hard. She was being sucked back down into the inky depths again. She only had one coherent thought and that was regret because however they spoke the voice sounded strained and a little sad and somehow she knew it was her fault. Regret and blackness tugged confusingly at each other for a few seconds before the blackness won and closed over her again and she knew nothing more.

...

Hunson was almost asleep when he heard footsteps in the corridor and his cell opened unexpectedly. He frowned; it was too late to be his lawyer or the frequent detectives who came to interview him. Hunson glowered and stayed silent through those tedious hours when the police questioned him over and over. That bastard DCI Earle could try to string him up for attempted murder all he wanted but Hunson wasn't going to play along and make it any easier for him. Besides Petya was his lawyer now and he was excellent at wriggling out of tight spots. That's why he'd been their crooked legal man back when Hunson still had businesses to run. Petya Bolshakov was the slipperiest lawyer in East London; Hunson had faith in his old associate's abilities. He'd find a way out.

"On your feet, Abadeer."

He stood and squinted at the figure outlined in the sudden flare of light. After a second he frowned in recognition.

"Detective Hope?"

"The very same. I'm here to speak with you on behalf of the family."

The warden nodded to Hope and swung the door closed; he must be on the payroll too then. That was a pleasant surprise. Hunson made a mental note to thank Petya when he next saw him.

"You're working for the family now, Hope?" I'm surprised a man like you would want to get involved with their kind of business." Hunson said quietly.

"Your friend Papa Bolshakov can be quite persuasive when he wants to be." the young detective replied. "He offered me several thousand reasons to take a personal interest in your case."

Hunson examined the younger man's round face closely; he prided himself on having a knack for knowing when he was being lied to. The detective had the open, guileless expression of the painfully truthful. From what Hunson had seen Elmon Hope was ambitious and flashy; a detective's wage probably wasn't keeping him in the luxury he'd hoped for when he joined the force. Petya must have seen it and taken him onto the payroll.

"I'm to keep you updated, too. So far there's only a small change in your daughter's condition. She's breathing on her own again but there's only minimal brain activity. Chances are she'll stay a vegetable for the rest of her life. They say every day she doesn't wake up it gets less and less likely she ever will; she could die any time and then you're facing a murder charge." Hope told him. Hunson shrugged. He had his regrets about that but she'd been shoving her twisted perversion in his face, would any reasonable man have done differently? Marceline had always known he had a temper and she'd always taken great delight in setting that temper off. Just like Claudia; it was no surprise they'd ended the same way. And she was tainted, corrupted. Better she just die and be done with it. Hunson allowed himself a moment of regret that she didn't have life support machines that could be conveniently switched off.

"You know about the evidence against me then?"

"Yes, I've heard the recordings. Unfortunately too many other people have also heard them to make it disappear but the legality of that evidence is dubious; she did it completely without your knowledge or consent. If the prosecution were going to build their case solely on that then you'd be walking out of court a free man." Hope replied.

Hunson nodded. He'd heard the same from Petya of course but there was too much other evidence. That little bastard had knocked him out and the police had had all the time they needed to search him while he was unconscious. The best his lawyers could come up with was pleading self-defence; claiming Marceline had threatened him with a knife and that the boy must have removed it before the police arrived. It was a slim chance but Hunson was hopeful that Petya would be able to buy him a sympathetic judge and jury. He had no plans whatsoever to go back to jail, not after he'd finally bought his way out. His reputation had caused some of the younger hard cases to take a swing at him and he'd been moved to solitary that morning for his own safety.

"That boy, that little bastard from downstairs. I want his body to turn up in the river. Naked. _Violated_. Make it as violent and degrading as possible; I want his whole fucking family shamed for what he did to me." Hunson growled with a sour frown. He unconsciously touched the back of his head where the boy had hit him with Simon's cricket bat. There were still stitches in the wound; a week later and it had barely healed. Hunson knew that was a sign of his age but he couldn't help but feel it was the boy's fault too. He should never have let his daughter grow up in an area like that. Of course she'd turned out perverted and disturbed. He would fix her if the little bitch ever woke up. He wasn't done with her; Marceline was in for a world more pain for the trouble she'd put him through.

Hope nodded sympathetically.

"The boy will get a token of the family's appreciation, don't worry about that."

He groped in the top pocket of his jacket and after a moment produced a small hip flask. He unscrewed the lid and passed it across to Hunson.

"From Bolshakov. He said to tell you he knows when a man needs a stiff drink."

Hunson took it and downed almost the whole flask in one mouthful. He and Petya had been drinking buddies many years ago and they'd had a running competition to find the most expensive whiskey London had to offer. Trust Petya to remember it; he was a better friend that Hunson had realised. He licked his lips and savoured the aftertaste thoughtfully.

"A hint of salt, it's quite full bodied. Old Pulteney?"

Hope grinned.

"Pultney Twenty Five, the cask strength single barrel edition. That stuff's like gold dust to find. Bolshakov insisted on the very best for you, he told me to tell you so. Said you might notice the taste otherwise."

It took a few long moments for Hunson to register that anything was amiss. Then-

"Wait, what? The taste? What about the taste?"

Hope stood. The smile was completely wiped from his podgy face. He was frowning down at Hunson and his cherubic features looked odd pulled into such severe lines. Hunson stared at him, confused. Suddenly he felt oddly disconnected; like the world was beginning to dissolve a little at the edges. He couldn't speak or try to stand and his mouth had gone weirdly dry.

"Courtesy of Petya Bolshakov. He said to tell you that for what it was worth he didn't think you deserved to be anaesthetised but he wasn't a sick bastard like you. Said you'd have enjoyed watching someone suffer but he had no taste for it. Personally, I need to give you something before you completely lose all feeling."

Hope kicked him as hard as he could in the balls. Hunson didn't even have time to think about moving to protect himself before the foot connected and he pitched forwards in blinding agony onto the cold concrete of his cell floor.

"Bolshakov asked me to remind you that he was always a loyal friend to the Petrikovs. And that you are no Petrikov. There's no place in the business for a man who acts against his family, Abadeer. Simon sends his regards too. He might not know much anymore but he remembers how much he hates you."

With that the detective rapped sharply on the door of the cell and it opened again to reveal the same heavy set warden who'd taken Hunson down to solitary that morning. Hope nodded to him and he entered the cell.

"Make it look like a suicide." Hope told the grim faced warden before he strode away down the corridor.

Hunson couldn't move as the big man advanced on him, couldn't even shout out. Vaguely he was aware that he'd been drugged; that would show up in a tox screen if they ran one but Petya had probably bought the coroner too. He was going to die. He knew it all the way down to his bones.

"I'm no friend of the Petrikovs myself but I like their money." the warden told him conversationally as he scooped Hunson up and arranged him on his thin metal bed. Hunson couldn't reply. He couldn't do anything but stare at the man with mute eyes full of impotent horror. His limbs felt like they'd been petrified, like he was slowly turning to stone.

"I'd like to say I hope you won't feel this but I got a little girl too. She'll be eight next week. Thanks to Bolshakov and his generous bonus to my pay packet we're taking her to Disneyland as a surprise. Can't wait to see the look on her face, she's my little angel. Anyone laid a hand on her and I'd fucking kill them slow and painful like. So I can't say I won't enjoy this, you scumbag."

Something glinted on the edge of Hunson's vision and it resolved into the blade of a homemade shiv, a razor blade melted into the handle of a toothbrush. The warden grinned at him over the weapon and held it up in one massive gloved hand so his victim could get a good look at it. Hunson wished he could scream. But he could do nothing, only lie helpless as his shirt sleeves were pulled back to expose his wrists.

The last thought Hunson Abadeer ever had was wondering if this was how his wife had felt before she died, wondering if she'd been as terrified as he was.

...

Time passed but she didn't know how she knew, just that it had. It felt different; a whole different season rather than a different day or different hour. There were still words filling the air all around her but this time it was a feminine voice speaking softly. It barely made any more sense than the last one. The voice was just a gentle murmur of nonsense that left her with confused impressions of sky blue eyes crinkling happily behind round glasses, freckles like tiny drops of sunshine on smooth pale cheeks, warm lips and soft hands. She didn't know how or why but she knew she loved that voice fiercely.

"...the Screams are playing at the Fox and Hounds again tonight but their new bassist is pretty crap. If you wake up we could go and heckle together. Please? Think about it, there's still time. Oh, and Ash called too; he said he'd come and see you this week. He finally introduced Anton to his father and I think it went well. If you wake up we can try a double date with them, or is that too cheesy for you? I know how you vegans are about cheesy things. Anyway, you can tell me off for making lame jokes if you wake up. Lame jokes are your territory. Please love, please just wake up and tell me I'm a dork or that I'm awful at talking to girls or anything. Please? I miss you so much. Please wake up, Marcy."

She desperately wanted to reply despite not really understanding what the words meant. But she couldn't remember how speaking worked or how to make the words flow out of her throat. The room grew quieter around her and for a few minutes the only noise was the low _beep_ of some kind of machinery and a soft snuffling that reminded her of tears running down her cheeks. Eventually the voice spoke again. This time it was a little raw and raspy, like the speaker had done a lot of sobbing recently.

"I have to go now but I'll be back tomorrow. Wish me luck for this afternoon's lab session. I'm still catching up on what I've missed but my tagged cell cultures are finally growing. If you wake up I can take you into my lab and show you my fluorescent green science. I'll be back tomorrow. I love you."

Something touched her face; something warm and velvety soft that pressed against her cheek. After several long slow moments she realised it was a gentle kiss. Someone had kissed her cheek. The scent of rose perfume hung thick and sweet like Turkish Delight all around her, both familiar and wonderful. The blackness gave way a little more and let through a hazy flickering dream. It was like an old black and white film being played after a long time gathering dust. She had an impression of two girls curled together in a huge bed, warm and sated, gently exploring the curves of each other's hips and backs with their fingertips and sharing slow lingering kisses. She wasn't aware of how much time had passed before the dream fizzled back into blank darkness.

...

The scene was too familiar. If it hadn't been for the age of the girl in the hospital bed Earle could have pretended the last fifteen years hadn't happened. It was identical to the night he'd stood watch by her bed when she was just a child.

Marceline looked so much like Claudia that it hurt to look at her. Same lips and eyes, same voice, same tragic weakness for wanting to be a hero. And it looked like she was going to suffer the same fate, too. The way her girlfriend sobbed over her was new; so far as he'd known Claudia hadn't experimented with girls. But other than that it was like he was trapped in his worst nightmare again.

Earle took a long sip of his coffee and stared harder at the unmoving face of the girl who should have been his step daughter.

"I was even gonna get to know you." he confessed gruffly to her prone form. "You and the boy too. Get us a place away from the city, I was gonna be the Dad you deserved. I promised your mother I'd look after you. Guess my promises aren't worth shit. Sorry kid."

The door opened unexpected and Earle whipped around. It was late, well outside visiting hours. Nobody should be there but him. The last person on earth that he wanted to see entered the small hospital room and stopped dead when he saw the older man. Hope and Earle stared at each other for a tense second before the old detective snorted entirely humourlessly and kicked out the chair next to him. Hope sat warily.

"You know what I wish someone had told me when I was your age, Hope?" Earle asked conversationally after the silence stretched to breaking point between them. The younger man just shook his head. "Not to get mixed up with the family. Take some advice from someone who learned the hard way."

"Dunno what you're talking about, I'm just here to pay my respects." Hope replied, avoiding his superior's eyes.

"Bullshit. You're here to absolve your guilt about murdering her father. Trust me, little Petrikova doesn't care."

Hope's face turned a blotchy red and he scowled, setting his chubby jowls quivering indignantly.

"What the fuck do you know about it, Earle? Why's it got anything to do with you anyway? I'm here in my own time, it's nothing to do with you whether I visit a sick girl or not. And what the fuck are you doing here, anyway? You miserable old arsehole, why do you wanna hang around some pretty comatose girl's room, you some kinda fucking pervert? Waiting for the nurses to go home so you can have a quick fumble-"

"Shut the fuck up you stupid little bastard." Earle growled, suddenly furious. Hope shut up. "You really want to know? Mmmmm? Yeah, I'm here to absolve my guilt too. Here to try to keep a promise I made her mother. See, my Claudia loved those kids more than she loved herself, or me, or that evil bastard she married. And I loved her, desperately, stupidly. She'd have done anything for them, even made me promise to learn to love them too. You know what? I would have, for her. She was gonna put Hunson away and the four of us were gonna get a little place in the country, proper happy families like. And then he fucking murdered her. So I'm here fifteen years too late to keep my promise to Claudia, try to do the best for her daughter whatever the fuck that even means anymore. But I fucked that up, too. And now the last person I owe anything to is probably gonna die and what was even the point or any of it? You think it matters any that Bolshakov finally turned on Abadeer? You think Marceline would give a fuck that I was here to watch her? If she dies in the night someone should be here with her, she shouldn't be alone. But it doesn't matter, not really. None of it fucking matters. It hasn't mattered for fifteen years. Take my advice you stupid little boy, do not get mixed up in the family."

Hope stared at him, mouth hanging open comically. He looked like a curly haired fish, like his eyes would bug out of his round face in shock.

"She was having an affair after all, she was seeing _you_. Did Bolshakov know? Or the eccentric brother?" Hope breathed, staring at him hard. Earle nodded, no point trying to deny it now.

"Yeah, she was. Simon knew but I've no idea if Bolshakov ever did, I guess he doesn't give a fuck either. We never meant it to happen but I was probably the only man in her whole life that'd treated her with a little respect except for her crazy brother. And she was outta my league, any fool with eyes could see that. But I let it happen anyway. She started it all, I couldn't help myself. And the family killed her because of me. I'm telling you, Hope. Whatever they're giving you I promise it's gonna cost you more in the long run than you can afford. What is it, money? Drugs? You're a big enough lad to know that they won't hesitate to put you in the ground when you stop being convenient. You think Bolshakov is your friend? You're an idiot. Men like Bolshakov don't have friends."

"You don't know Bolshakov or me." Hope muttered, avoiding his eyes and frowning down at the floor.

"Oh I don't? You're young and stupid, Elmon. You want to be a bigger deal than you know how to be. And you think you can outsmart the man who orchestrated Abadeer's death. He's running the family now, a lot more cautiously than anyone else has in recent years. Petya Bolshakov is not a man to mess with. He's subtle and cunning and he will fucking _disappear you_ the second you make a nuisance of yourself. Don't think you have the better of him, Hope. You could go far but not with the family hanging like a stone around your neck."

Elmon just scowled at him again, body language screaming defiance, and Earle shook his head sadly.

"You really thought I didn't know? I recognise a man who's been bought by the Old Moscow crew. They will turn you into one of them, strip away the humanity. Elmon, look at me. I have been there, I've let them take pieces of me that I could not afford to give. I stood there and watched that little girl shiver and whimper in a medicated sleep because she couldn't stand the agony of her burns. A seven year old girl, too small and innocent to understand what the fuck had happened to her. And I watched her cry out and knew she'd just seen her entire world go up in smoke, knew she'd lost everyone and everything her whole existence was built on. And you know what I thought? I wished she'd died, instead of Claudia. I wished that little girl had burned to death with every fibre of my being. She was so small and fragile, so innocent, and I'd have let her burn forever if it would have brought my Claudia back. I wouldn't have given a single fuck, haven't been able to give a fuck about anyone or anything since. That's what getting mixed up with the family did to me. Don't pretend you know yourself until you're tested by something like that. You're a colder bastard than you realise, I promise you."

Hope just shrugged again and turned his face away, looking at the unconscious girl again and avoiding the older man's cold gaze. Earle couldn't stand the oppressive silence of her room any more. It was too thick with unspoken accusations that he'd let Claudia down twice now, let Marceline down, and let the man he'd wanted to be down. He got up with a low growl rumbling the back of his throat and strode out of the door, regretting that he'd ever come in the first place. Hope stared after him with a scornful frown creasing his chubby forehead.

...

The third time she almost managed to open an eye and for a split second the light stabbed at her, a confusing flash of blue and white and gold. There was movement near her and she quite clearly heard someone speaking. This time it almost made sense.

"Did her eyes just flicker?"

"The doctor said that'd happen sometimes, that it didn't mean anything. It's just a reflex. But it's been more and more frequent, I'm sure she's dreaming. Ash said it happened the other day when he dropped by to visit and Finn's seen it a couple of times too. I wish it meant she was waking up."

She wanted to tell them she _was_ awake and she could hear them, she wanted to scream it. But she couldn't open her eyes, couldn't move or speak. Frustration boiled through her as she lay helpless and immobile. She knew those voices. She could see their faces so perfectly. She just couldn't conjure the names that went with those faces to the front of her damaged mind.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes of course, anything. Is something bothering you?"

If she'd had any conscious control over her breathing she would have held her breath. The air of the room felt heavy, tense with anticipation.

"Do you wish sometimes that it was the other way around? That he'd beaten me into a coma and not your best friend? She got hurt because of me, because we were together. Do you wish it had been me?"

The pause before the answer came seemed to stretch on forever. It lasted for so long that the blackness had started to swirl around the edges of her awareness again before the deeper voice with the slight accent spoke.

"No. Never. My only regret is that I should have been quicker, should have come and stopped him the minute I heard things getting violent. It must be some terrible mistake but somehow I am now the man in her life. If anyone should have been hurt it should have been me. She has been nothing but a good friend to me, like a sister. I should have saved her."

She didn't understand. What were they talking about? When had she been hurt? She wanted them to tell her, explain it all. But an insistent rhythmic buzz announced someone's phone was ringing and the deeper voice excused himself with a brief goodbye.

She didn't know how long her other visitor stayed after that. Nobody spoke more and perhaps the other girl just sat staring at her unmoving face until unconsciousness claimed her again.

More time passed but she was much more aware of its passing than she had been before; almost able to feel the change in the air between night and day if she tried. Maybe it was even the same day, she felt certain it was. She became aware of music filling the room and after a minute realised it was a tune she recognised. It was a Christmas carol. Someone was playing an old recording of Silent Night, like Simon used to every Christmas since their first year living together. She'd smiled and played along with his festive activities despite the lingering horror still in her eyes from the fire. Both of them pretended to be jollier than they really felt and somehow that had been a comfort. Little Marcy had put out a plate of cheese rolls and a glass of whiskey because she knew that Santa got bored of eating mince pies and wasn't really fond of sherry, just like Simon. He'd explained what the word 'coincidence' meant and how Santa was definitely real and would be there any minute, so she better go and put her special penguin pyjamas on and get into bed and he'd be through to read her a bedtime story soon.

The music ended and a voice straight out of her memories murmured,

"Merry Christmas, Marcy. I miss you."

It took an age, but she was determined. She knew that voice and for the first time since she could remember she knew the name of the person it belonged to. Someone she had to wake up for. Simon was there, Simon was _lucid again_. She wasn't going to miss that, not for anything. It took all the strength she had and it seemed like she was straining against the blackness for hours but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds in reality. With a herculean effort Marceline finally opened her eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Happy Valentine's Day guys! Have a chapter, my gift to you. My amazing and very foxy fiancée brought me breakfast in bed this morning because she is perfect and beautiful and also a total foxy fox. I mean like, you could hunt her on horseback with hounds, that's how much of a fox she is. And she gave me a scarf with little pink love hearts on it! I'm feeling the love very much today.**

 **This chapter involved a lot of research on subdural haematoma recovery prognoses, Glasgow coma scales, multi therapeutic rehabilitation protocols and British inheritance law. So next time someone tells you reading fan fic isn't educational you can confidently reply that the usual treatment for an acute traumatic subdural haematoma is a decompressive craniectomy to reduce intercranial pressure. Today in fan fic school we learned about emergency brain surgery** ✿ ◠‿◠

 **Content Warning: medical language, warm and fuzzy feelings, shady gangster dealings.**

* * *

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

Marceline shook her head bewilderedly. The doctor frowned and made a note on his chart.

"Do you remember who this woman is?"

He pointed at Bonnie who was still breathless from where she'd skidded around the doorway a couple of minutes earlier. They'd called her away from her family Christmas dinner with the news that Marceline had woken up, that the increased brain activity had meant she was improving after all. Bonnie's heart felt like it had doubled in size when the other girl nodded a little and smiled weakly.

"Mm. S'...Bon. S-she's... m'g-girlfren'." Marcy slurred after a moment's intense concentration.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Chr-christm'?" she managed after a moment staring around bewilderedly. They'd put a decorated tree in the corner of Marcy's room and Bonnie was dressed in one of the garish festive jumpers her great aunt bought for her every year. Even still it gave her hope that maybe Marceline's brain wasn't completely scrambled after all.

After an unfairly long time Marcy's answers were getting less and less coherent. She stared imploringly at Bonnie until she got the hint.

"Hey, doctor? Can we let her sleep some and ask her all this stuff in the morning?"

The doctor reluctantly broke off from asking Marcy if she remembered the days of the week in order.

"She might not be fully responsive again for a while, after a prolonged period of unconsciousness it's normal for her to go back into a semi coma state. It might be a few more days before she's fully awake again." the doctor warned as he made copious notes on his clip board and frowned at Bonnie like it was entirely her fault that Marceline was tired and confused.

"Hey sweetie, I'm gonna let you rest soon. But I'll be back tomorrow morning with your Christmas presents and you better be awake, ok?" Bonnie said in a voice thick with emotion, squeezing Marcy's hand carefully. She could have cried with joy when her girlfriend shakily squeezed back and smiled at her.

"M'hu... hu?" she managed, tired eyes full of questions she had no strength to articulate.

"Yeah sweetie, you got hurt and you were unconscious for a long time but you're awake and you're gonna get better now. You got hit really hard on the head and you were really ill but now you're gonna be ok. I promise."

"H-hear...S-si... mon?"

"Yeah honey, Simon's here. I brought him to see you every week. I think it was good for him to get out, he's been a little bit more lucid recently. Especially today. But he can tell you himself, he's right outside. You've had so many visitors, love. Everyone missed you so much."

"An, m... D-d-da?"

"No, not him. He won't be coming to see you ever again."

Something was weird about the way Bonnie said that but Marceline was too tired, too confused to figure it out. Her head hurt like nothing she'd ever known. It ached with an agony that went so much deeper than the burns had; it felt like the centre of her brain was splitting open from the inside. Her throat was terribly dry despite the sips of water that the doctor had helped her take and talking wasn't working right. She was stuttering and slurring, struggling to remember which words went where and how they should sound put together. She didn't remember waking up too much either. There'd been music and Simon had been there and then there'd been a lot of noise and voices and nurses shining torches in her eyes. Then Simon wasn't there but Bonnie was- she couldn't process it all yet.

"You might not be awake again for a while and when you do wake up you might not remember this so much, or at all. But I need to tell you something important." Bonnie told her gently as she helped Marceline lie down comfortably and tucked the blankets a little more snugly around her. "Honey, there's no easy way to tell you this. Your Dad killed himself. They found him in his prison cell a week after you were taken into the hospital. He got hold of a razorblade somehow and cut his wrists in the night. I didn't think you'd want to hear it from anyone else."

Marceline just stared at her. Her Dad was dead? But… what? She didn't understand.

"He hit you and put you in hospital because he found out about us. Because he found out you're gay and he reacted exactly like you always warned me he would." Bonnie added quietly. There was a thick current of guilt running underneath her words; Marcy might be confused but she could tell that much. She squeezed Bonnie's hand again, trying to convey that she didn't blame her at all but unable to remember the words to tell her so.

"D-da, hu-hurt...?" she managed to mumble. God, her tongue felt two sizes too big, like a lump of weird heavy meat in her mouth. She felt like she'd forgotten how to form words properly and that fucking stutter was annoying her already.

"He did. He hurt you really badly; we didn't know if you'd ever wake up again. I was so scared for you." Bonnie replied. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny like she might cry. Marcy frowned and her facial muscles ached in protest at being used after so long. How long? It was Christmas, she should be able to work it out but her brain felt mushy and too heavy. She just knew it had been a while. And oh, she just remembered. Her father was dead. That was too big a concept for her to deal with. Marcy tried to push it away from her thoughts and focus on what was happening around her instead but it circled back and slid into her mind however she tried to ignore it. Her Dad was dead, she was an orphan. He'd hit her and put her in the hospital and now he was dead. He couldn't hurt her ever again. Her father was finally out of her life forever, he knew she was gay and now he was dead.

"He... h-hur... me." Marceline replied with more conviction. She was proud she'd gotten the words out mostly right that time. It was completely consistent with his character but Marcy didn't remember the attack at all. The last thing she could bring to mind before waking was Lydia yelling at her and Ash getting hit in the face. After that there was nothing, just a blank empty stretch of indeterminate length in her mind that should have been filled with memories. "M'glad... d-dead."

"Me too." Bonnie replied softly. She leaned in and slid her arms around Marcy's thin shoulders and held her carefully and protectively, like she was fragile and might break from too much sudden contact. Marcy couldn't quite remember how kissing worked either but she was more than content to just rest her head against Bonnie's arm and close her eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you." Bonnie murmured it quietly against Marcy's ear so the doctors and nurses still bustling around the door wouldn't hear. "I thought you'd just stay like that forever, or that you might die. At first they said you probably would. You weren't breathing on your own for the first week and they said you might be brain dead. You had a bleed in your brain and a lot of swelling and we still don't know what kind of long term damage it might have done. They had to perform emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and your heart stopped twice while they operated. You were dead for over a minute the second time. You were so close to never waking up again. And I've spent these last two months watching you barely cling on and regretting that never told you how much I love you."

Marceline pulled back to gaze into her wide blue eyes that were so full of emotion and filled with tears of relief. Up close she could almost count the golden freckles scattered across Bonnie's cheeks. That stirred a vague memory in the back of her mind. Lying side by side in a huge bed, close enough to kiss without having to move much and almost nose to nose. And she'd counted Bonnie's freckles then too and she'd already known what she was feeling way deep down. She just hadn't wanted to jinx it by saying it too soon, been too worried about scaring the other girl away. But it seemed like she'd nearly died and Bonnie was still there. Marceline didn't need to be told that second chances were rare or that she should seize the moment; she wasn't going to hold back for a second more.

"L-lo… love y-you." she slurred as carefully as she could manage, screwing her face around words that didn't flow as easily as they used to. "Love you… m-much. Al-al…ways, r-right… from… st-start."

And Bonnie couldn't stop the tears of relief from spilling down her face then, she really couldn't. She brushed a gentle kiss onto Marcy's lips and said her goodbyes again with a promise to return in the morning. Marcy was tired and she needed to rest soon but Simon was outside. Lucid for who knew how long and she didn't want to miss it.

But by the time the old man shuffled into the room she was already half asleep again. He just sat by her bed for the rest of the evening and held her limp hand. He told her all the things he remembered about her childhood while she slipped in and out of consciousness and smiled drowsily at him whenever she recognised his voice.

…

"Come on, three more steps and you can sit down again."

Marceline ground her teeth together and shot the overly cheerful physiotherapist a look that could have melted stone. But the large matronly woman just smiled at her and continued to beckon her forwards along the support rails she was currently struggling to walk between.

"It's _d-difficult_." Marcy snarled around the cramping pain and alarming shaking in her weak legs. As soon as she'd improved enough to leave the hospital she could go home and Bonnie was waiting for her, she just had to remember how to walk and speak properly first. _Stupid Dad_ she cursed in the privacy of her own brain. Then she remembered he was dead and that was a good thing. She still didn't remember the night he attacked her but they said it might come back with time or possibly not at all. She hoped she wouldn't remember. Whenever she tried to think of it she could only recall brief flashes of pain and the feeling of hitting the ground with her head. Despite not being able to remember it properly the attack was already filling her nightmares right alongside the old traumas from fire. She was back in touch with the same post-traumatic stress therapists she'd seen as a teenager but so far it hadn't done a lot to help. But she was cautiously optimistic; with time and expert care Marceline hoped she could get to a new kind of normal.

She'd managed to shuffle the remaining three steps while she was lost in thought and that was definitely a huge victory for her so far. Walking was painful and too slow but she was making progress. She was able to walk five steps at a time now and she was a bit embarrassed by how proud she was of that. When she'd first tried to stand a couple of days after waking Jake had caught her before she could hit the floor which was awful nice of him especially since she didn't know the big guy so well.

It seemed like two months in a coma being fed through a tube could be the next fad diet; she was so skeletal that even Bonnie was able to lift her pretty easily and the slender redhead wasn't exactly muscular herself. But Marcy was improving, she was starting to get a little bit of her muscle tone back thanks to the several hours of intensive physiotherapy she had most days. Her balance and coordination were getting better at a steady rate too. She still forgot words and had the occasional fainting fit but from what the doctors had told her she was lucky to be alive and definitely lucky that she wasn't experiencing worse after effects. She'd suffered the most serious kind of brain bleed and being able to walk and talk even a little after just two weeks was apparently nothing short of a miracle.

Marceline hadn't taken a seizure since waking up but they'd warned her it was a significant risk and that it could happen at any time. The serious faced young doctor who'd done Marceline's observations when she woke again on Christmas morning had also brusquely informed her that she would need to take a whole pile of medication indefinitely and that she now had an increased risk of developing epilepsy, blood clots, strokes and another serious brain bleed. That had been a downer of a conversation.

"May I interrupt with Miss Petrikova for a moment?"

It was lucky she'd already sat down; the distraction could have sent her spinning to the floor if she'd looked around quickly while trying to walk. A face she recognised was peering around the door at her and smiling benevolently.

"P-papa Bolshakov! It's so good to… to… see you again." Marceline said with a bright smile. She struggled for a frustrating moment to recall the right words but she did mean it; the old man was probably the only person involved with the family that she could stand to be around other than Simon and Ash.

Her physiotherapist excused herself with a polite murmur and the older man came forward into the room and took a seat next to Marceline's wheelchair.

"I'm so glad you are awake and beginning to recover, my girl." Petya told her with genuine fondness. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm as well as c-can be expected, th-thank you, sir. My head still hurts a lot and I can't- can't walk much yet but I'm getting… b-better." she replied with a shy smile. She was still quite self-conscious of her newly acquired stutter but her godfather ignored it completely which was a relief for her.

"Ah, it is good to hear that you are healing. I'm afraid I'm not here for a purely social call today, Marceline. I have some business to discuss with you but hopefully nothing that will cause you undue distress. Did you know that the first thing I did when I was released from my wrongful imprisonment was reopen my law firm?"

She shook her head carefully, not wanting to risk making herself dizzy by moving it too quickly.

"Well the court found that both your father and I were wrongfully imprisoned and that the cocaine that was found at his house after the fire had been planted against us by someone unknown. And that means there are no longer any restrictions on my practicing law since I am a free man with no convictions. One of the first people who came to me for my professional services after my release was your father." he told her gently.

"Oh. R-right." Marceline didn't really know what to say about that. She didn't want to talk to Petya about her Dad. She didn't want to talk about him ever again if she could help it, not even with her therapists. Despite the warmth of the room Marcy found she was shivering violently. Sometimes she thought she could feel her father's fist crashing into the side of her head although she still couldn't really remember the assault.

"Marceline, I do not want to distress you with this information. The reason I'm telling you is because he lodged a Last Will and Testament with me three days before he assaulted you." Petya explained. "And because he died before any criminal charges came before the courts his will still stands. It has already been through probate and approved by a judge which should have taken a lot longer but I was able to use my legal contacts and some family influence to speed the whole process up. You are the last Petrikov and Abadeer heir; your father left you most of his considerable fortune. You were always going to inherit one day. The money and deeds are only waiting for your signature."

She stared at him, not entirely sure she understood what he was telling her.

"He le-left me... m-money?"

"He did, an awful lot of it. Houses too, and a controlling share of a number of companies. But you are not the only beneficiary of your father's will. He believed that you and my Ashar were quite seriously involved- no, I already know it was a sham and I understand perfectly why you needed to lie." he forestalled her awkward explanation with a small smile and a wave of his hand. "And he left a portion of his money to Ash too, thinking it was for your future together. So you and Ash between you have inherited his empire and now you are both quite seriously wealthy. I have the full details here along with the deeds to your new properties."

Petya handed her a thick brown envelope and she took it with shaking hands.

"I will allow you to read through the paperwork at your own pace. And I hope to see you out of hospital soon. Please remember you are always welcome at our dinner table. Bring your lovely girlfriend, too." he told her with a fond smile creasing his broad face. He stood and took her hand.

"I- yeah, th-thanks. I don't know w-what to… say."

"Say nothing, I am simply fulfilling the terms of my employment. Perhaps the money will be some consolation. I only wish I had been able to save you from this pain." Petya told her gently. She could tell by his tone that he honestly meant it. "You were always a close friend to my Ash and you are welcome at our home at any time, day or night. I know we have not always been as good to you as you deserved but in the family we look after our own and you are the last Petrikov, no matter that you do not wish to be part of the business. However you wish to live your life you will always be our family. If you are ever in need of my services please remember that I am only ever a phone call away."

With that he kissed her cheek and took his leave of her. Marceline sat staring after the old man for a long time before she looked down at the envelope in her lap. She opened it slowly with deliberately careful movements so that her hands didn't shake too hard and damage the papers inside. Her eyes scanned the first page then skipped to the back and went wide. She wasn't sure she'd seen quite that many zeroes together on a legal document in her whole life. Marceline hadn't really understood what Petya had meant when he'd told her she was now 'quite seriously wealthy'; it seemed her father's various dubiously legal companies had still been paying into his accounts after all while he was in prison all those years. The money she'd thrown around as soon as she'd realised she could access it hadn't even scratched the surface. No wonder he hadn't noticed it. Marceline felt a slow smile spread across her face as she stared at the numbers and tried to take it all in. She knew exactly what she was going to do with all that money.

…

"It is all finished now, old friend." Petya murmured quietly. Simon looked around at the familiar voice and frowned when he didn't immediately recognise the other man.

"Are you the new doctor?" he asked, confused.

"I am your friend, Simon. I followed your instructions and I have been handling your niece's legal affairs while she recovers in hospital."

Simon frowned harder.

"Yes, Petya. I know you. What do you mean you're handling my niece's affairs? Why is Marceline in the hospital? Is she ill?" he asked.

"She has been very ill. Hunson assaulted her and she suffered a bleed in her brain but she is getting better." Petya explained for what felt like hundredth time. Simon clenched his scarred fists and bared his teeth.

"I'll fucking kill him. How dare he! She's just a child! I'll-"

"Do not upset yourself, Simon. I already took care of him; he won't lay a hand on anyone ever again." Petya cut him off with a note of satisfaction in his tone despite having already told his old friend all about it.

"You took care of…? You had him killed? Petya, you brutal, magnificent bastard!"

Petya grinned, he couldn't resist it. He and Simon had been close friends since they were boys together and as confused as the old man often was these days he knew Petya's style. Simon had been there by his side the day they'd dipped a wailing baby Marceline in the font and he'd promised the Almighty to watch over her. Petya wasn't too clear on whether there was even a God to break his promises to but he wasn't about to let Simon down where his beloved niece was concerned.

"I paid a struggling prison warden to cut his wrists and make it look like suicide. Paid him in Hunson's own money. I thought it would be appropriate. He delivered a message too and let the bastard know that you and I had arranged it. Hunson's out of the picture completely and now there is conveniently room at the top for someone more subtle to guide the family business."

The scarred man nodded but he was still frowning thoughtfully.

"I don't disapprove but Claudia will be heartbroken. She won't hear that he's scum." Simon told him with a sad shake of his head. Petya just nodded, he had no heart to explain to his old friend that Claudia had ignored everyone's warnings and it was fifteen years too late for anyone to help her now.

They sat together in the chintzy lounge of Simon's care home drinking tea and talking about long past memories. Simon remembered things from his childhood so much better than more recent events and Petya enjoyed reminiscing with his oldest and closest friend. Petya had been a year below Simon at school and the two of them had been as thick as thieves since the time they could both walk and talk. They chatted about school holidays with their fathers on the coast, smuggling alcohol into Simon's student accommodation and staying up far too late drinking and listening to old rock'n'roll records together before he became a serious archaeologist and Petya set up his legal practice. Eventually the evening began to grow dark outside the windows and Petya knew he must leave soon. He had dinner with his son and his charming partner to look forward to. After fifteen years away Petya had no desire to miss a minute more with his family.

"Marceline will be provided for; you can rest easy on that account my friend. The family will watch her and make sure she achieves her dreams. Even if she does not know it we'll be looking out for her. She will be successful in her endeavours, the very least I owe her is to help that happen." he told Simon quietly as he eyed the nurse pottering around at the back of the room in case she overheard. "I signed all the paperwork in Hunson's name and she has inherited most of his money. I hope you'll understand that I provided for my Ashar too. A man has to look after his own, you understand. Neither of them will ever struggle nor starve."

Simon nodded; he understood that perfectly. Hunson had been so wealthy and there was no reason not to provide for both of their children.

"You forged Hunson's signature on the will? That was smart; he would never have agreed to split his wealth. Look after my little godson too, Petya." Simon told him with a smile. "Ashar has such a bright future ahead of him and you know the family will help him in whatever he chooses. They're the best of us, old friend. Once you and I are done there will be precious few who even remember what the family used to be when it began. Make sure they both do well. I never want Marceline to feel that she has to take part in the business; she should be free to make her own choices. Ashar should, too."

Petya nodded, relieved that he had Simon's blessing for what he'd done for his son. He'd been forging Hunson's signature on legal documents for so long that he didn't even need an example to copy from anymore. His old friend was more right than he knew; Ash and Marceline both had such bright futures and he would move heaven and earth to keep it that way. It was what one did, for family.


	20. Chapter 20

**This chapter ran away with me and even though I tried to edit it down to a more acceptable length it's still a behemoth of a beast. So, you know, sorry it's long? I suspect that twenty chapters deep you probably don't mind a little irregularity in chapter length, right?**

 **As ever a HUGE and SQUISHY hug for all my reviewers, favouriters, followers and you know what? Even to my lurker readers. I know you guys are out there! I love you too, my shady little lurkers. Also! I need ideas for one shots! Challenges, prompts, crossovers, whatever you wanna see. Just let me know. Cause this is nearly done and I only have like, ten other projects of various length in the pipeline. I need more to write.**

 **Content Warning: unconsciousness, depression, survivor's guilt, some medical language.**

* * *

"Marcy? Can you hear me? Come on, babe."

Her eyes flicked open after a second and Marceline stared up at Bonnie's anxious face. She was sprawled on the floor of her hospital room with her head and shoulders cradled in Bonnie's lap. What the hell?

"You got a shock and you fainted again." her girlfriend supplied helpfully when she saw the confusion in Marcy's eyes. They'd been talking about Bonnie's university. Oh yeah, now she remembered. Marceline frowned, annoyed.

"Wh-what do you… mean, you dr-dropped out? Y-you're supposed to be g-graduating this summer!" she demanded.

"Just for the rest of this year, until September. Then I'm going to resit my final undergrad year and graduate next summer instead. I just wanted to be around more to help look after you for right now." Bonnie replied in as soothing a voice as possible. She helped Marcy into a sitting position from where she'd slid onto the floor and then half lifted her upright again, helping her limp carefully back to her hospital bed.

"I hate that I'm making you… m-miss school." Marcy ground out between clenched teeth. It was still difficult to talk and walk at the same time and despite her intensive speech and language therapy sessions she was finding her new stutter more and more frustrating. The words were beginning to flow a little easier from her lips but it was still a struggle to form a coherent sentence sometimes. Her doctors kept telling her she was doing amazingly well but it still felt like a slow and often painful process. There were so many things she just couldn't do any more. At least she was capable of feeding herself and using the bathroom without assistance. Marceline had thought the shame of having to be helped to do those things in her first couple of weeks after waking from the coma might finish what her father had started and actually kill her.

"Are you mad at me?"

She jumped at Bonnie's quiet voice when the redhead next spoke. Marcy had been lost in her own thoughts for a minute.

"No, n-not mad. Just, I dunno. Worried, I guess. I don't want you… to, to throw away y-your education for me."

Bonnie took her hand and slid onto the bed next to her, leaning her head gently on Marceline's thin shoulder. She let out a slow breath and turned her face against Marcy's soft cheek before replying.

"Do you know," she asked quietly, "that watching you waste away in a coma was the single most horrible experience of my entire life? That every day I came in here, every single day, and I begged you to wake up. I cried, I got angry and yelled at you, I tried bargaining with you. I even prayed a few times, even though I felt really stupid doing it. I guess that seven stages of grief thing is true after all. But when you did finally wake up I knew for absolute certain I'd do anything if it would help you get better. We didn't even know how bad your brain damage might be, I didn't care. I just felt so helpless for so long watching you suffer and being unable to do anything to help. When you came back it was like a miracle. I'd give up far more than just a year of uni to make sure you recover as well as possible."

That was a lot to take in. Marceline was quiet for a few minutes, absent-mindedly stroking Bonnie's hair and trying to organise her jumbled thoughts. She supposed she'd never stopped to consider how awful it must have been for Bonnie and everyone else to watch her lie there and not know if she might wake up or die or just stay like that forever. If things had been the other way around she'd have done a lot more than just drop out of school, if Bonnie needed her.

"It's y-your decision… love, I just want you t-to look after yourself, too." Marcy finally replied, hugging Bonnie closer and resting her face against her soft hair. The envelope Petya had given her weighed heavily in her mind; she had a plan for what to do with the money but it was probably bad manners or something to keep it from her girlfriend. She made a decision, it seemed like the perfect time. "L-look in my nightstand. Th-there's a… surprise I want to sh-share with you."

Bonnie looked up at her curiously but did as she was instructed and opened the nightstand, peering into the gloom with a small frown on her face.

"What is this?" Bonnie asked, retreating from the cupboard with the letter in her hands. She frowned down at it as though she could read its contents through the thick envelope.

"Open it." Marcy told her softly.

The look on Bonnie's face as she read through the details of the letter was priceless. Marceline wished she'd thought to borrow Lady-camera.

" _Jesus_." Bonnie finally breathed. "I knew you were from money but this is _insane_. And all those properties too? And the businesses? You legally own, like, half of London now. What are you even going to do with all this stuff?"

She turned her astonished face to Marcy, who shrugged a little self-consciously.

"Br-break up the companies, at least. They're either sh-shells for drugs imports or o-only borderline… legal. I don't w-want to be associated with them. I'm g-gonna give the houses to a… a homeless charity. I d-don't want them. The... money is a surprise, y-you'll have to wait and see with that. I h-hope Dad's spinning in his… his grave."

"You are the most genuinely wonderful person I've ever met." Bonnie told her, leaning in for a close hug and then tilting her head up to claim Marceline's lips in a kiss. With her eyes closed it was almost like no time had passed at all and they were still in their fancy hotel, like nothing at all had happened. Marcy lost track of everything else completely; too focused on the soft lips pressed against her own and the warm hands that slid achingly slowly along the hem of her shirt. Bonnie's fingertips skimmed teasingly against the skin of her stomach and made her heart thud erratically. Marcy leaned back into the pillows and tilted her head to let warm lips find the most sensitive spot on her throat-

There was a deliberate cough from the doorway and they broke apart sheepishly.

"Hey, B… B-Mo." Marcy said. He just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I am glad you're feeling well today." Mo said with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. "I brought you something."

"That's my cue to need to be somewhere else, I think. I'll see you tomorrow, love. Take care." Bonnie told her with an only slightly awkward smile. She kissed Marcy's cheek and stood, nodding in greeting to Mo as she passed him in the doorway.

"Y-you're the worst… c-cockblock, y'know that?" Marcy told him as he sat next to her. He shrugged a little despite his obvious embarrassment.

"Actually you are not the first person to say that about me. Besides that is what little brothers are for. Trust me, I am over blessed in the little brother department. Like I said, I brought you something."

Mo rummaged around in the large canvas bag he'd been carrying before he pulled something out and laid it reverently on the bed by her leg.

"Aunt Betty's ukulele?" Marcy asked him with a frown on her face.

"I did not know which one you played regularly. I thought perhaps you would be bored, and it would help you get stronger." Mo murmured, not quite able to look her in the eye still.

Marcy leaned forwards and hugged him carefully, touched that he'd been so considerate.

"Y-you are such a... a closet sweetheart. But I'm scared I can't... can't play anymore." Marcy added, looking down at her hands with a pensive frown. She flexed her fingers, not at all happy with how thin and weak they felt.

"But you don't know until you try. And you can build up your hand strength with practice. Music is like, your whole life. I would be sad to see you give it up just because of your evil father." Mo replied, taking her hand and staring earnestly into her face. Marcy looked away, avoiding his eyes.

"I-it's not as simple... as that. The part of my b-brain that co-controls coordination got... got damaged. I m-might never p-play music again, I c-can barely... walk."

Mo frowned, squeezing her hand until she reluctantly turned her face back towards him. He could tell she was genuinely worried about it, her stutter got worse when she was upset.

"But you are getting better. You are walking and talking better every day and you are too talented to give up on music now. I learned about brains in school, different parts can learn to control new functions if you get hurt. So you can learn to play again. You are a survivor, Marcy, and you are my absolute hero. You are not allowed to just give up."

"B-Mo..." Marcy started, but she didn't know what to say so she trailed away into silence.

"Just, try it please? For me?" he asked with pleading eyes. She sighed and reached out to pick up the instrument carefully. Letting Mo down was not something Marceline was fond of. He was back to being adorable and kind and she'd have done anything for him if he kept on looking at her like she was magical.

The instrument felt weird in her hands, unfamiliar despite the many years of practice she'd had with it. For a moment Marceline just closed her eyes and thought back to when Simon had first placed it carefully into her lap.

" _This belonged to your Aunt Betty, she learned to play on it when she was just a bit older than you. She always said it was the perfect size for tiny hands. You gotta make some chords, darling. Put your finger on the second fret there and this one on the third. Then this one here."_

The strings were just as hard and unyielding as they had been when she was seven. In the months she'd been in a coma the skin of Marceline's fingers had softened, there was no longer any built up callous to protect her fingertips from the hard nylon. Just forming the chords hurt and she hadn't even tried to strum anything yet. Her fingers felt stiff and uncooperative. They didn't quite have the strength to push down the strings anymore and already her arms were beginning to shake from the effort of being held in position for longer than a couple of seconds. Marcy gritted her teeth and tried to shift between chords a little faster, tried to ignore the cramping pain in her hands and the shaking in her arms. The ukulele slid from her weak grip and before Mo could lunge forward it hit the floor with a loud crack. He retrieved it with a stricken expression on his face.

"We will fix it, don't worry. I should have been ready to catch it, I am so sorry."

Marcy just rested her head in her hands, defeated. She was sure she'd never play music again and now she'd trashed Betty's precious ukulele proving it to herself. And Mo had seen too, it was more than she could deal with.

"I th-think I need s-some... time a-alone." Marcy stuttered quietly, squeezing her eyes shut because dammit she was _not_ going to cry in front of Mo.

"Marcy-"

"P-please." she whispered. He stood reluctantly.

"I will come back and see you again soon. Do not give up."

She waited until the door of the room clicked shut before letting out the miserable sob that had been building in the back of her throat.

...

Marceline didn't even bother rolling over to see who'd come to visit the next morning. She didn't have the energy or motivation and besides it was probably Bonnie again and she would understand. Except it was Finn's voice that addressed her, she did turn at that.

"Good morning Milady, rise and shine! Your beloved Pink Sprinkles sent us in her stead, to deliver a message! We're white knights, yo. Come to rescue the damsel in distress." Finn added with a crooked grin.

"Ignore him, he's been binge watching Game of Thrones." Susan butted in loudly with an eye roll, shoving the smaller boy in the shoulder playfully. Finn winced and his hands flew to his chest.

"Sorry man." Susan added, petting his arm much more gently.

"Y-you're hurt?" Marceline asked, sitting up and frowning at the blonde boy. He scowled back and nodded reluctantly.

"Cracked a rib trying to run in my stupid chest binder." Finn muttered, glaring mutinously at Susan. "I fucking hate that stupid thing. Someone thought it was bloody hilarious."

"It was." Susan agreed cheerfully.

"S-sounds... painful." Marcy frowned at him. "Bonnie's message?"

"Oh! Right, yeah. Your most glorious and fragrant bespectacled lady lover doth verily bequest us to inform you thusly that- _ow,_ Sue!"

Susan had prodded him in the ribs again.

"Too slow, loser. Your girlfriend had to go sort out some paperwork with the university so she'll be in to see you later, probably after lunch. She sent us to keep you company because B-Mo can't keep his fat mouth shut and said you looked like you'd accidentally killed a puppy when you dropped your fiddly little guitar thingy yesterday. So we decided- I decided, cause Finn's a moron- that you've been cooped up in this room too long. We're going outside, put some socks on."

Finn glared at his best friend and flashed her a rude hand sign. Susan grinned back and signed something much longer, culminating in Finn sighing and nodding.

"Yeah, put your socks on." Finn agreed. Marcy just stared at them both.

"B-bu-but-"

"An excellent argument and one we're going to completely ignore, Milady." Finn cut across her, grinning widely.

And really Marceline didn't have the energy to argue. She had a headache again and felt pretty much like some invisible force was pushing down on her, squashing all of her feelings flat under its weight. Vaguely she registered that the depression was back. Her meds had gotten all fucked up while she'd been in her coma and she was still readjusting. But she didn't complain when Susan lifted her bodily out of bed and deposited her into her wheelchair with an audible sniff.

"You need a shower too, you smell a bit ripe." Sue told her conversationally as she wheeled Marcy out of the door, leaving Finn to limp after them. Marcy just shrugged, yeah she probably did need a shower. But she was finding it hard to think of a reason to care whether she stank or not.

"W-wait, we're really going outside?" she asked with a frown as Susan wheeled her through the doors that lead to the hospital grounds. The muscular girl grinned again and nodded.

"You're important to Bonnie and she's important to us. So you're important by extension. Besides we all got really attached to you when you were unconscious and we sat with you hour after hour. You don't know it yet but we're your best friends now. So yeah, we're going outside. Fresh air is important too and friends don't let friends sit around feeling miserable." Sue told her with a firm nod. Marceline just craned her neck back to stare at the muscular blonde. They were her friends? She was finding it hard to understand how she'd somehow managed to pick up a whole crowd of new friends without even being conscious for it.

"You g-guys are crazy." Marcy muttered to Susan. Then despite herself, despite the fact it was the middle of January and a miserable grey day and all the trees were bare, she smiled a little. The air was as clean as city air ever got; it was icy cold and stung her lungs when she breathed deeply. It was absolutely the best thing she'd felt in weeks.

"Finn, you're on the bench!" Susan yelled, and that was all the warning Marceline had before she took off at a run pushing the wheelchair hard in front of her. Susan was sprinting scarily fast along the concrete walkway around the hospital garden, whooping and yelling gleefully.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Marcy screamed at her around the entirely inappropriate laugh that was forcing its way through her lips.

"CHEERING YOU UP!" Susan yelled back. "AND YOUR STUTTER GOES AWAY WHEN YOU YELL!"

"WHAT?"

"YOUR STUTTER! IT WENT AWAY WHEN YOU YELLED!"

"S-son of a..."

It had gone away when she yelled, Marcy thought dizzily. She hadn't even noticed but that was an amazingly positive discovery. Her language centre wasn't irreparably damaged. She just needed to use a different bit of it to work around the stutter. Shame she couldn't yell at everyone for the rest of her life like Sue. But it did mean that if she could learn to use the same pathways in her brain when she spoke as when she yelled then she might yet be able to beat the speech problems she'd picked up from her subdural haematoma. Then she shook her head and smiled to herself; she'd thought all of that in Bonnie's voice, of course.

Susan made a brief circuit around the garden and spun the wheelchair to an abrupt halt in front of the bench Finn was lounging on. Marceline had to grab onto the arms to keep from falling out but it was too hard to complain about the sudden stop around the uncontrollable spasms of laughter rippling through her chest.

"My turn!" Finn yelled happily and without even thinking about it Marcy stood up and took three quick steps to the bench, taking his place with a grin.

"What?" she asked them bewilderedly after a minute when they continued to stare at her disbelievingly.

"You got up on your own and walked. You didn't even need someone to help you up, you practically ran." Finn replied, wide eyed and stunned. Marcy looked down at her bony legs contemplatively, still clad in pyjama pants and slippers.

"Cool. L-look at that, I can w-walk."

"Right! Finn, sit! We're tryna break my personal best!" Sue bellowed. Finn sat while she set off running again, pushing him in the chair and howling some ridiculous battle cry in an enthusiastically tuneless voice.

They took turns being pushed around by Sue for most of the morning, laughing hard even thought it was horribly painful for Finn's ribs. Marceline hadn't smiled so much since before her Dad turned up again and she honestly didn't think she'd laughed so much in even longer. Finn and Susan were really well suited as best friends; they were both so full of energy and enthusiasm that it was hard for Marcy to brood or mope. She didn't even really notice when the heavy blanket of depression slipped off her shoulders partway around her third circuit. She was too busy laughing and shrieking at Sue not to crash her into anything.

Marcy was sitting getting her breath back and watching Sue try to ride the back of the wheelchair down the tiny incline in the middle of the little garden when someone slid onto the bench next to her and a familiar hand found her own.

"Please tell me you didn't let Sue do that with you sitting in it? The last thing you need is to fall out and hit your head again."

"I-if I yell my…. stutter g-goes away." she replied instead, turning a smile as bright as the sun to Bonnie's startled face.

"Really? That's awesome! That means your brain still has instinctive speech, it's just the conscious control that's damaged!"

"Yeah th-that was what I thought, ex-except with more… sci-science words!" Marcy replied proudly.

"We should tell your therapist." Bonnie said happily, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I brought you lunch, figured these happy idiots would have kept you entertained long enough to miss your delicious hospital food."

Marcy made a face; the hospital had politely informed her that they did not cater to a vegan diet so there wasn't a whole lot she could eat when they brought her meals. And she refused on every possible level to eat any none vegan food, not after her Dad had done his best to deliberately poison her with eggs and milk. So Bonnie had been bringing her meals every day and conveniently experimenting with vegan cooking, she seemed to be quite enjoying it. But the box her girlfriend handed across wasn't from home; it was a take-out box and it had a familiar logo on the lid. The smells wafting out from inside were divine. It smelled a million times better than the gross hospital food she'd eaten for breakfast.

"We never got to try those vegan fajitas you were so excited about. And I was cycling past Ramiro's today and they were open for lunch so I had them box up a couple for you. Wrapped in foil too so they should still be pretty warm. They said to tell you hi and they hope you'll be well enough to come eat there again soon. They said your next meal there's on the house." Bonnie explained.

"Seriously? I f-fucking love you." Marcy breathed.

"I'm like, ninety percent certain you're talking to the fajitas right now." Bonnie replied, grinning nonetheless. "Hey Sue, Sport Gorilla! I brought you lunch!"

…

By mid-afternoon Marcy was beginning to yawn around her smile; she was still taking regular naps to help her heal which were about the only enjoyable part of being stuck in hospital for so long.

"You should go get some sleep, babe. Come on, I think we've walked the little sports doggies enough for now." Bonnie said with a smile.

"Watch it dork, I could totally use my brain muscles to think of a witty comeback." Finn replied, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Don't hold your breath." Sue muttered to them.

They said goodbye to Finn and Susan at the main entrance and watched them slouch off together. They were signing so fast Marcy was surprised their hands didn't steam in the cold air.

"Th-those guys are l…legends. Thanks f-for sending them."

"I was worried, Mo said you were so sad yesterday when you broke your ukulele. I knew you didn't have any therapy today and I didn't like the idea of you being stuck in your room without company all morning." Bonnie replied, squeezing her shoulder gently before wheeling her back inside the hospital building. Marcy missed the fresh cool air before the doors were even out of sight; she resolved to find a way to get outside at least once a day when she could.

Bonnie stayed for another couple of hours, reading while Marcy napped for a while. Once she woke again Bonnie spent the rest of the afternoon amusing Marcy with stories of how horrified Lydia had been to discover that the handsome blonde man she'd punched in the nose was _the_ Ashar Bolshakov. Apparently she'd read about him in _Vogue;_ the hot young model who was about to sign a huge contract with some big name underwear designer or something. Bonnie had stopped listening at that point, she wouldn't have remembered the names anyway.

"I'm g-glad Ash is doing…well." Marcy agreed with a smile. "He was a g-good friend to me. He even took… L-lydia's fist to the nose f-for me."

"Yeah, I heard about that. You know Lyds is too ashamed of herself to come see you, right? She came while you were unconscious but she's scared you hate her now. It's kinda her fault that… y'know." Bonnie indicated the shaved patch on the side of Marcy's head where the surgical scars were hidden by a couple of centimetres of regrown hair.

"Th-that my psycho Dad tr-tried to kill me? Y-you can say it, b-babe." Marcy replied gently. "It's not healthy to avoid… avoid tr-traumatic memories. She shouldn't b-blame herself, he'd have... found out about us sooner or l-later. I'd have t-told him myself, it was too... hard to hide how I f-feel about you."

"I know, I just… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to make it all about me because clearly it's not but it was traumatic for me too. I genuinely had no idea that anyone could do something like that to their own flesh and blood. Even my asshole runaway father wouldn't hurt me or Neddy deliberately. It's hard for me to say it out loud because it's just so difficult to get my head around, even now." Bonnie replied quietly. She addressed her feet, unable to look Marcy in the eyes.

"H-hey, it's ok. I know it was… hard for you, t-too." Marceline told her gently. "But it w-won't get easier if you don't talk about it. Gotta h-help you heal, too."

"I didn't get hurt like you did. Maybe I deserved it more; no parent should ever hurt their child the way he did to you. It's just so unnatural. I feel so guilty for not being there to protect you. It should have been me he hit and I should have been there with you."

Bonnie looked just as surprised as anyone to hear the words tumbling out of her mouth. Marceline hugged her. She'd had a feeling something like this might happen. She'd processed plenty of her own survivor's guilt after the fire; she hadn't been able to understand why she was still alive and almost everyone else she loved had died.

"W-will you come to group therapy with me tomorrow, l-love? And we… we can talk ab-about it together." Marcy asked her softly. Bonnie nodded, still looking down at her shoes.

"I know its irrational but I feel like I should have done something to stop him. You told me he'd hurt you and he did and I just sat at home being miserable and pathetic. I don't deserve you." Bonnie whispered.

"Alright, f-first of all 'deserve' isn't r-really a real... thing. You d-did exactly what I…I wanted you to, st-stayed away from him, stayed… s-safe." Marcy countered. "If h-he'd hurt you I would have k-killed him myself."

"You're genuinely the most wonderful human being I've ever met." Bonnie replied after a quiet moment. "And I absolutely do not deserve you, not at all. No matter what lovely things you say to make me feel better."

"Bullshit." Marceline snorted. "Y-you know that day at the museum? I watched you for… for like, fifteen minutes before I d-deliberately walked into you. I was admiring the sunlight in y-your hair. And I was too… shy to c-come and just say hello so I tr-trashed your camera like an asshole. Not that wo…wonderful now, huh?"

"You devious bitch!" Bonnie gasped, then laughed. "I did wonder if maybe it wasn't as accidental as it appeared. I mean, I was dressed in bright pink; you really couldn't miss me. I'm sure I should be offended but that's actually the cutest thing anyone ever did for me."

She kissed her girlfriend again and hopped down from the bed, stretching her back until it popped.

"I told Lyds I'd be home for dinner, I should head back. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure, say h-hi from me. Tell her t-to stop being... weird and come s-see me."

"I'll tell her. Love you, babe."

"Love you too."

Bonnie kissed her again and smiled a little proudly, glad Marceline had managed to say it without the stutter. She was definitely getting better. But when Bonnie pulled the door to the room open she almost tripped over a large box that had been placed right up against the threshold. She brought it inside with a curious frown.

"Someone left you a parcel, it just says 'from your annoying little brother' on the label." Bonnie said, confused.

"Must be from... Mo." Marcy replied, sitting up and letting Bonnie slide the box onto her lap.

"Ah, he's decided he's your little brother and not in love with you this week? I bet that's a relief. You know how worried I was he might steal you away from me." Bonnie replied with a teasing smile. "See you tomorrow, love. Enjoy your mystery box."

Marcy blew her a kiss as she left then turned her attention back to the box. It was a home made affair; two cardboard chocolate bar boxes from Mo's father's shop cut in half and taped haphazardly together. When she carefully tore the top open a cascade of packing pellets covered her lap and the floor but she didn't even glance at them. Inside was Aunt Betty's ukulele. It had been professionally repaired so well that she couldn't even see where it had cracked. There was a brand new security strap firmly attached to it and a handwritten note threaded between the strings.

 _Heroes don't give up._

B-Mo must have spent his entire allowance on it; she knew from experience that emergency ukulele repairs didn't come cheap. With a fond smile Marcy settled back against her pillows with the strap secured around her thin shoulders and began the slow painful process of relearning how to play from scratch.


	21. Chapter 21

**We're on the home strait now, there's just the epilogue left to post after this. Thanks for reading all the way to the end, it's been an absolute pleasure sharing my story with you all. As ever much love and kisses and squishy hugs to my reviewers for sending me their wonderful words. All that remains is to say thank you for reading, and enjoy this chapter and the epilogue.**

 **Content Warning: Not much I can say here. Fluffiness? Cuteness, the tying up of loose plot ends, some very mild references to lady sex.**

* * *

It took another month and a half of intensive physiotherapy as well as various other therapies and counselling but on Valentine's Day Marceline did finally walk out of hospital and straight into the passenger seat of Bonnie's car. She was leaning a lot of her weight on a fancy carved walking cane that Finn had insisted on getting for her but she was _walking_ and that alone felt like a miracle. It was even sunny and unseasonably warm, perfect weather to no longer be a hospital invalid. The only thing missing was the crush of photographers and press that she'd been expecting to have to endure; Hunson's suicide had been in all the papers at the time. But they were conspicuous only by their absence. Marceline made a quick mental note to thank Papa Bolshakov for that, she'd bet anything he had something to do with it.

They listened to her Dad rock mix tape on the way back to Bonnie's apartment, singing along to the cheesy music together and sharing a joyful grin every time their eyes met. Marceline didn't even mind that she still occasionally stuttered over the lyrics. She was out of hospital and her words were improving a little more every day. If she practised the exercises her speech and language therapist had given her then there was every chance she'd be singing in grungy pubs again before the end of the year.

"Jake's planned a surprise party for you, I tried to discourage him but he barely even needs an excuse at the best of times." Bonnie warned her as she parked in front of the house. "Just, so you don't get a shock and faint or something."

Marceline scowled; she was still doing that with alarming regularity especially if she got a fright or tried to get up too fast. She might never stop doing it, it was frustrating.

"Is there gon-gonna be a lot of people there?" she asked, making a good stab at pretending to be apprehensive. Bonnie pulled what Marceline was beginning to recognise as her trying-to-break-bad-news-gently face.

"Well, a few people. I got them to agree to keep it small at least. Susan and Finn, Lady and Jake, Mo, Mo's little brothers and sisters, Mo's mother, Ash and Anton, Lydia and Johnny, the guys from your old band and me. Yeah, a few people. But we'll all be real quiet and gentle with you, ok?"

Marcy waited until Bonnie had gotten out of the car to let her mischievous grin out. That was perfect, she wanted as many people there as possible for her plan. Ash already knew, he'd sort of known before she did, but he was a special case. Everyone else… well, they'd find out when she told them.

She allowed herself to be helped out of the car and gently supported up the stairs into the apartment. She even did a good job of looking surprised when everyone was crammed into the tiny living room together with a big home made banner that read 'WELCOME HOME, MARCY!'. Apparently Finn had wanted to write 'welcome back from the dead' but Bonnie had told him to make something more tasteful. Marcy quite liked the back from the dead one though, it was pretty funny given she had been technically dead for a little while.

"Ah, y-you guys! What's all this?" Marceline asked around her huge smile.

"Surprise! You deserve a party!" Jake grinned at her as he pressed a warm can of beer into her hands. She carefully passed it straight on to Bonnie who placed it back on the table with a small head shake.

"Hey, I'm glad you're back. I, uh, I made you a cake. It's even vegan. It's like, an apology cake." Lydia mumbled with an awkward smile when she caught Marceline's eye. She was still feeling guilty despite Marcy insisting that it wasn't her fault and that her crazy father would have tried to kill her sooner or later anyway. Hassan was clinging to Lydia's back like a monkey and grinned when Marcy ruffled his hair fondly. It was a surprise to discover that kids liked Lyds but they probably thought that her sarcasm was meant as humour. Besides little Hassan had a weird ability to charm pretty much anyone; clearly Lyds wasn't immune to him either.

"MARCY! You're all better!"

Finn stepped forwards and caught A-Mo before he could knock Marceline to the ground with his enthusiasm to hug her and she shot him a grateful smile.

"Hey, A-Mo! Y-yes I am, mostly. And I'm so glad you're all here, cause I've got some stuff to talk to you all about."

"Um, actually, we kinda had an announcement too. Since everyone is here." Lady spoke up from the corner she was sharing with Susan and the rest of the Screams. "But you go first, this is your party."

Marceline nodded to her and sent the Korean woman a shy smile. She didn't know Lady that well but she seemed to be a very sensible and very kind person; she was close with Bonnie and she'd come to visit Marcy in hospital a few times. Marceline got the feeling she'd be seeing an awful lot of her from then on anyway.

"So you all know about w-why I was in hospital." Marceline started, running a hand self-consciously against the short patch of hair on the side of her head where they'd had to surgically remove a section of her skull. When she flattened her palm over the scars she could just feel the metal plates they'd fixed her head with under the skin. "And you know my Dad t-took his own life in… jail. I found out a little while ago that he left a will and he left me some… some… money. Apparently beating someone within an inch of death doesn't m-mean they can't inherit. Thing is, I don't want his… money. I never wanted it, or his name or anything to do with him. And I thought about just donating it all to charity but then I thought about m-maybe helping the people who've b-been good to me. Paying you guys back for putting up with my… my drama."

She opened her bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes with names on. Most everyone was there, she had an envelope for each of them and a few more in the bag. There was one for Mo's school and one for the women's refuge near her apartment block, one for the hospital and another for the ambulance crew who'd saved her life. Marcy handed them out and didn't say another word until everyone's envelope was open and they were staring at the cheques inside.

"I can't accept this, it's too much." Finn gasped. He tried to hand the cheque back but Marceline stepped out of reach and shook her head.

"Look either you _please_ take my awful father's m-money or I'm going to get a stress migraine from having to manage it all. It's too much, even if I hadn't gotten it from him. I don't know what to do with that kind of, of… money, I don't want to know. So you all get some, and you can do whatever you want with it. I arranged your surgery, Finn. I had a lot of… spare time in hospital to m-make... the arrangements. Th-there's a time slot next month being held for you with a p-private surgeon if you want it, he's just waiting for your confirmation call. I already… paid but I didn't know exactly wh-what you wanted doing so you need to... to... go talk to them. Buy a house, go travelling, pay you st-student debts, open a rescue shelter for urban foxes, I d-don't care. Jake, s-seriously, get a shop and st-start your own shoe label or something, you're _amazing_. Just enjoy it; someone should and I know I can't. P-please?"

They were staring at her, all of them, with varying degrees of shock on their faces. That was _brilliant,_ Marcy decided. The best prank she'd ever pulled off; turning her surprise party into a massive surprise for everyone else. It was magnificent, she didn't think she'd ever be able to top that. It was even worth stuttering over a long speech in front of them all just to see the look on their faces.

"Your… a-announcement?" Marcy prompted Lady after a few seconds of stunned silence. The other woman looked up from where she'd been staring at her cheque in disbelief and blushed at finding herself the centre of attention.

"Oh! Right. Yes. Um, well Jake and I had a little accident and we are now three months pregnant. I had my first scan yesterday, the baby is healthy and growing well. And we were worried about managing financially, but... wow. Thank you so much, we will use it to plan for the little one."

Marcy sneaked out of the lounge under cover of the explosion of noise and congratulations that followed Lady's announcement and limped carefully into the kitchen to help herself to a glass of water. She didn't jump when a voice interrupted her, she knew only Bonnie would have noticed her escape.

"I'd stay to congratulate Lady but I already knew. She told me while you were still unconscious, I think she was trying to cheer me up. That was a wonderful thing you just did for everyone, sweetie."

"Not really, it was pretty… selfish. I can't deal with that level of r-responsibility right now so I made everyone else have to do it instead." Marceline replied with a shrug, turning frustratingly slowly to face her girlfriend. "I gave the deeds to the apartment to Mo. Figured he might want a place of h-his own soon anyway and I don't much want to go back there after… what happened to me there."

Bonnie slid her arms around Marceline's waist and pulled her into a tender kiss for a long moment. She was still sometimes a little amazed that she could just reach out and touch the other girl, that she finally had someone amazing to share that intimate physical closeness with. That it should also be the kindest and most breath taking person she'd ever met was more than she could understand sometimes.

"So where will you live? Did you hang onto one of the houses you inherited?" Bonnie asked when they finally broke apart.

Marcy shook her head, she didn't want to live anywhere that was associated with her father.

"Right now I was thinking I'd stay in y-your bedroom, if you'll have me. Long term I m-might look at buying somewhere around here for a change. I've seen some gorgeous old f-fashioned town... houses out by the park and I'm sure we could find one with a…a, um, decent sized study and a s-spare room for Neddy to v-visit, within walking distance fr-from you Mum's place." she replied, not quite meeting Bonnie's eyes in case she'd misjudged it.

"I- what? Are you asking me to move in with you?" Bonnie asked her after a moment of shocked silence. Marceline nodded carefully.

"If you want to. I'm not sure I'm really… s-stable enough to live alone for the time being. I totally understand if you don't want to be my full time… my c-carer as well as everything else though." she added worriedly. Bonnie kissed her again, hard and enthusiastically. They were both a little breathless by the time she pulled back.

"Yes! Oh God, I thought you'd want to take it slow but I would _love_ to move in with you! When do you want to look at houses? Do you wanna look now? Wait, are you sure you want to live with me though? You don't want to ask Lyds what kind of awful room mate I am first? I'm messy and I like pink far too much and sometimes I stay up baking until the sun comes up and-"

Marceline cut her off with another firm kiss.

"Shh, don't over think this, d-dork. I'm sure. You were there for me no matter how hard I tried to… to push you away. Y-you stayed, even thought I'm b-broken and fucked up. Bonnie, will you m-move in with me?"

It was a good half hour of delighted kissing before they finally re-joined the party.

…

Their new house backed right onto the park and it had a large private garden and everything, a rare luxury in the city. By the start of summer all the contracts were signed and conveniently Marcy had picked a moving day in between Finn's professional races so that he could help carry boxes. He didn't even mind, he was running again properly for the first time since he started transitioning and he'd have carried a literal ton for them in gratitude. Marceline was taking full advantage, of course.

"Is that k-kitchen stuff? Or music room stuff?" she asked from where she was perched on top of the big pile of boxes he and Mo had already carried in. She could have hired someone to carry the boxes but Finn had offered and Marcy knew he wanted the excuse to show off his ability to lift and carry now that he was recovered from his chest surgery. Finn shrugged in reply and dumped the box in the middle of the sizeable lounge floor.

"I'm pretty sure it's house bricks actually." he huffed with a frown, massaging his shoulders. "Or Bonnie's books, did you buy her a bloody library? Feels like it. Anyway, that's the last one. And is it just me, or is it really hot in here?"

There was something about the glint in Finn's eye when he said that so she didn't complain when he reached down with a grin and stripped off his t-shirt.

"Oh man, y-you went to the tattoo place?" Marcy asked in surprise, eyes taking in the slightly scabby design covering most of Finn's chest. He grinned and nodded. The scars from his surgery were hidden beneath the twisting scales of a bright blue Chinese dragon that rippled across the developing muscles, so realistic it almost looked like it could soar off his skin and into up into the sky.

"They did a fantastic job! Finn, it looks so awesome." Marcy grinned back at him. She was glad he'd taken her advice and gone for a cover up with the same amazing tattoo artist she'd used; he'd been so self conscious of his scars after his surgery.

"Flashing my girlfriend, Finn?"

They both whipped around at Bonnie's voice and Marceline overbalanced and toppled off the pile of boxes. Luckily she landed on top of a still shirtless Finn who was blushing right the way down his neck.

"L-look at that, girls are throwing themselves at you." Marcy snickered, pressing a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before he carefully put her down. She was still a lot thinner than she had been before the attack and Finn didn't have any trouble carrying her around the place if he needed to despite being ever so slightly shorter than her.

"Hey, the tattoo looks amazing! It's so realistic, you look awesome! Oh, is that the box with all the books in? You should have said, I would have helped you carry it." Bonnie added, coming forward to rummage in the box and admire her newly expanded library.

Marcy dropped a quick kiss onto her girlfriend's distracted head and wandered out into the garden through the open French doors at the back of their sunny lounge. Packing the books had been traumatic enough and she had no desire to be in the firing line if Bonnie found a single page even slightly bent. It was a bright blue summer day, very warm and surprisingly quiet for a Saturday. Marcy stretched out carefully in the somewhat overgrown grass and lay back to enjoy the feeling of sunlight on her skin. She must have dozed off for a while listening to the distant laughter of children playing in the park and snatches of music from the occasional passing car at the front of the house. All of a sudden Marceline was aware of warm lips brushing against her cheek and she opened her eyes to find Bonnie had come and sat next to her in the long grass.

"You shouldn't just lie down and sleep out here, love. For a second I thought you'd fainted. It's a good thing you were snoring." the redhead said with a small frown.

"Mm, sorry. Didn't mean to take a nap, it was just really nice in the sun." Marcy replied around a yawn. "Where're Finn and Mo?"

"Mo went to the corner shop to get rice milk for you and Finn's returning the moving van. I thought you'd like to spend a couple of minutes alone in our new place?"

That was subtext for 'making out' if ever she'd heard it. Marceline grinned sleepily, pulled Bonnie down to lie next to her on the springy grass and wasted no time in enthusiastically spending a couple of minutes alone with her girlfriend. Of course they'd forgotten how fast Mo could walk with his long teenage legs that seemed to have grown some more every time Marcy looked.

"Ew! Guys you have a bedroom, do not make out on the lawn where innocent children might be influenced by your filth."

Bonnie rolled away with a pink blush staining her cheeks but Marceline just grinned up at Mo and stuck her tongue out.

"Excellent suggestion, B-Mo! Wanna go check out the b-bedroom with me, Bon?"

Her girlfriend didn't reply, just curled into a little ball of embarrassment and from what Marcy could see of her ears around the arms she'd thrown up over her face was trying her hardest to blush herself to death.

"Maybe later then." Marceline said with a shrug.

"I am heading home now anyway so you two can be as gay as you like." Mo replied with an awkward smile. He was trying really hard and Marceline really appreciated it but he was still sometimes just a little uncomfortable when they were too affectionate. She rolled up off the grass and limped forward to give him a hug.

"Thanks for your help today, man. I really appreciate it. Say hi to your Mum and everyone, right? Tell them they're all invited to our h-housewarming party as soon as the boxes are put away."

Mo nodded and took his leave of them, letting himself out by the small gate at the side of the house that lead back onto their leafy suburban street. Marceline sank back down onto the lawn. This time she stretched out with her head in the cradle Bonnie's crossed legs made and let out a contented sigh when her girlfriend began sliding her fingers through Marceline's hair. It was beginning to grow back but she doubted she'd ever be able to get it down to her waist again. Like so many other things it was familiar but slightly different now.

Marceline stared up at the summer sky and let her thoughts wander; so much of her time these days was taken up with introspection and learning to organise her mind around the lingering trauma still messing with her head. She could walk more or less as easily as ever although she had a slight limp now. But she still preferred to use her cane, just in case. And she was still fainting from time to time; her blood pressure sometimes dropped unexpectedly. It meant she'd never be able to drive or even take a decent bath alone in case she lost consciousness and accidentally drowned herself. But she'd gained things too, things that she wouldn't have traded anything for. She tracked a small white cloud as it gently drifted across the sky above them and when it passed over their heads spent a few minutes happily distracted by admiring all the colours the summer sun threw through her girlfriend's hair. It looked almost pinkish in the golden afternoon light, like a very pale red shot through with streaks of amber where the light shone directly through the strands. It was the most distractingly beautiful thing Marcy had seen in a long time and she must have been staring for longer than she realised.

"You ok?" Bonnie asked her quietly after the silence stretched on for long minutes. Marceline squinted up at her, shading her eyes against the glare of sunlight when she moved her head.

"Yeah, just… I dunno, I feel really thoughtful? Like, w-we have a house and we live together now. It's been the craziest year of my life, which is saying a lot because I've had some pretty eventful ones."

"Mm yeah it's been pretty mental." Bonnie agreed. "But would you change it, if you could? Make all of the bad stuff have not happened but in return not have this? We'd never have met, I'd be a graduate already and you'd still be living alone upstairs from Mo. Would you change back to that if you could?"

"No. Not even for a second. I'd let my D-dad beat me into a crippled pulp a hundred times over if I got you at the end of it." Marceline replied without even stopping to think about it. Her therapists were encouraging her to talk about the attack regularly and to use whatever language she felt comfortable with so long as she wasn't repressing her memories of it or trying to downplay her feelings. In a weird way it helped that she'd had the experience of recovering from the fire too because she knew how to avoid most of her post-traumatic stress related panic attacks and knew what her triggers were, what to do when things got overwhelming. A big part of her psychological recovery was the shiny new piano standing pride of place in the spare bedroom she'd had converted into a mini recording studio. She still hadn't quite regained the hand coordination to play her bass or ukulele to a completely professional standard yet but the piano felt easier. She was familiar with it and playing the piano didn't require the same amount of hand strength as most other stringed instruments. The record label who'd offered to sign her after her Newcastle gig had agreed to let her record a demo of piano tracks in lieu of a first album and she was enjoying just going at her own pace, mixing covers and original songs and exploring a gentler kind of music than she'd previously been making.

Marceline became aware that while she'd been wandering around in her head Bonnie had been holding an entirely one sided conversation.

"…if you fancy it, or somewhere a bit less blistering hot?" Bonnie was asking her.

"Sorry, what? I, um… spaced out." Marcy mumbled with a slight blush.

That was another annoying effect of her brain injury; Marceline often struggled to focus for longer than a few minutes at a time especially if she was stressed or tired.

"Sorry, love. I was asking if you fancied a holiday someplace, before I'm back at uni in the autumn and you become a library widow for weeks on end. Maybe Ash and Anton's new place in Spain, or somewhere I won't actually burn to death under the midday sun?"

"Mm that sounds really nice. Me and Simon used to travel a lot when I was… was little. He couldn't dig too well after his hands got burned so I used to assist him with archaeology and stuff. We went to Machu Picchu one year, on my birthday. It was so c-cool."

"Yeah, you told me. You wanna go back to Machu Picchu then?" Bonnie asked with a lopsided smile, the kind that Marcy knew meant she was joking about something she actually kind of meant seriously too.

"Sure, I can tell you all about the Incan empire. It's a long flight to Peru though, sure you wanna g-go that far?" Marcy asked, genuinely curious. She knew Bonnie hadn't travelled much except for when the whole family had gone to Germany with her Dad's work. Her Mum hadn't had a lot of spare money for holidays when she was a kid.

"I might get scared on the plane, might need to snuggle up with you." Bonnie said with a smile, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. Marceline laughed and pulled her down for a kiss, right there on the lawn in their garden, in the house that they owned together. She reflected that she'd meant every word she'd said earlier. She'd have gone through it all a hundred times over if she'd know that would be the end result.

"We'll think about it, maybe look at flights when the internet connection's set up. But I think we should follow Mo's s-suggestion and check out our brand new bedroom." Marcy murmured against her girlfriend's lips. Bonnie nodded her agreement and gently pulled Marceline to her feet, following her indoors and up the stairs to their room with a soft smile on her face.


	22. Chapter 22 - The End

**Epilogue. Oh, it's been such a pleasure sharing this with you all! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for coming on this journey with me and for all of your wonderful words of support and appreciation. I'm honoured to have such wonderful readers.**

 **The only content warning needed for this epilogue is for one final moment of lady sexing, feels and historical character death. It's significantly longer than any other chapter because there was a lot of stuff I wanted to include, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it too and think it's a decent end to this story. So, enjoy.**

* * *

In the past four years they'd had their share of sorrows as well as joys. Their first row had been epic and terrible, definitely a sorrow not to be repeated. But there were so many joys too; their first red carpet together when Marcy's debut album won her Best Newcomer at the industry awards or the rapidly expanding collection of photographs in their lounge showing them visiting places all over the world together. And the joys had outnumbered the sorrows and time had flown past in that comfortable way it did when Marceline was happy. And today, well today she was almost bursting with pride right alongside her happiness. Probably other people looked at their girlfriends in wedding dresses or something the way Marceline was watching Bonnie in her PhD graduation robes. But it was hard not to be enthralled by the sheer brightness of the smile Bonnie shot her when she caught Marceline's eye. She was sitting right in the front row of the assembled friends and family next to Bonnie's Mum. It looked like the redhead had actually forgotten how to stop grinning, actually.

"Doctor Bonnibel Penelope Sugar." the serious looking bearded man reading the names out intoned. He was some important university guy or other, Marceline hadn't been paying much attention to him or his boring pre-graduation speech. She'd been too busy watching her girlfriend almost explode with excitement over _finally_ being a genuine actual science doctor. Bonnie accepted the scroll they presented her with a handshake and another blinding grin before she stepped down off the stage to a polite smattering of applause from the assembled crowd. She was the last student graduating that day anyway and they were almost done. That was lucky; Jake had threatened to come and gatecrash the graduation ceremony if they weren't at Bonnie's surprise party by five. There was another brief and equally dull speech and then they were finally free to leave. Marcy got up as fast as she could and made her way to the back of the hall where the small knot of brand new graduates were being congratulated by their relatives.

"Yo, out of the way, genuine cripple coming through!" she grinned, prodding people's ankles with her cane and grinning even harder when she caught the disapproving look her girlfriend was shooting her.

"Don't be a butt, Marcy." Bonnie said, throwing herself into Marcy's arms anyway and hugging her tightly. Marcy hugged back and pressed a kiss onto Bonnie's forehead. _I just kissed a doctor_ , she thought smugly.

"Hey Bon," Marcy whispered into her ear. "I just kissed a _doctor_. And tonight do you know what else I'm gonna do with a _doctor_?"

Bonnie's face turned an interesting shade of pink and she swatted Marcy's arm gently.

"Shut up you perv, my Mum's right behind you." she hissed.

"You're a _doctor_." Marcy reminded her. Bonnie grinned, instantly forgetting all about her embarrassment.

"Yeah, I am." Bonnie replied happily.

In the end they splashed out on a taxi to Jake's boutique instead of bothering to drive through all the traffic. Marcy didn't like taking the Tube since her injury because it was difficult to keep her balance with the way it rocked and the kind citizens of London rarely offered her their seats despite her obvious limp and cane. She didn't mind though, it wasn't like they couldn't afford it. Jake and Lady had used the money Marceline had given them to open a swanky boutique in Covent Garden for Jake's shoes; he was now one of the most sought after designers in London and he'd even threaten to pay her back the start-up loan since business was going so well. Marcy had immediately retaliated by threatening to donate it all in his name to the freakiest online start-up she could find if he did. Jake had spent an enlightening evening with Google and promised solemnly after that never to speak of it again.

"SURPRISE!" the assembled crowd shouted as they stepped through the door to the shop.

"Oh right, you desperately needed to go get some new shoes immediately after my graduation ceremony, that was subtle." Bonnie muttered to Marceline as she accepted the hugs and slaps on the back from all of their friends.

"Didn't know you knew the meaning of the word 'subtle', dork." Marcy grinned back, sliding into the chair by the door that Jake had thoughtfully put there just for her to use.

It was a pretty awesome party even if Lady had to leave halfway through to collect little Kim from nursery. Marceline offered to loan her the walking cane and she was only half joking; Lady was seven months pregnant with their second baby and moving around was starting to get difficult for her. Lydia and Johnny were there too; Lyds had surprised them all by actually keeping hold of a boyfriend for longer than a month and four years into their relationship they showed no signs of breaking up. Bonnie at least was glad for them even if Marcy rolled her eyes and muttered that it was only because they'd never find anyone else who matched their brand of crazy again. From her position sitting comfortably by the door Marcy had an excellent view of everyone and plenty of time to reflect on things.

There was Finn with some gorgeous doe-eyed girl hanging off his arm. Every time she laughed at something he said his whole face lit up and his chest puffed out proudly. Marcy had always suspected that as soon as he'd gotten over his insecurities and got a bit more comfortable in his gender expression he'd be a total ladies' man and it looked like she'd been right. She was glad for him; nobody deserved to be happy more than Finn.

Ash had brought Anton too, another relationship that had lasted despite the odds. They were laughing together in one corner of the room with their heads together. Anton said something quietly to Ash and Marceline watched the blonde man's eyes widen a little and a light flush creep into his cheeks. Probably that was how she looked when Bonnie said something unexpectedly filthy; it made Marcy smile to herself to see how relaxed and happy her old friend was these days.

"Sitting in the corner staring creepily at everyone, Marcy? I do not know why I am even surprised."

She jumped at the voice and stood up hurriedly to fling a hug around the neck of the tall man who'd addressed her.

"B-Mo! You're supposed to be in Liverpool! You came back just for Bonnie's party?" she asked with a huge smile.

"I drove. I have a driving licence now." he replied proudly with an equally huge grin. "And I got myself a car. A nice one, an Audi. I can take you for a drive some time."

"I'd like that. But I thought you were in the middle of exams, shouldn't you be sleeping in till the middle of the afternoon and Febreezing your socks instead of washing them like all the other students?"

The tall boy just shrugged, too glad at being home again to care about her gentle jab at his bachelor lifestyle.

"I finished my last exam yesterday and I did not want to miss Bonnie's graduation, she has worked so hard for this. Besides I missed you all. I am coming home the minute I finish university. The north is fun and I have a lot of great friends in Liverpool but Mahtab is growing too fast and I've already missed so much. Besides Asif is getting so sulky and moody and his grades are not as good as they could be. He needs his big brother around to help him through being a teenager. Just like I needed my big sister."

Marceline hugged him again; she was so glad he'd managed to make the party. Since Mo had moved away for university she'd not found so much time between recording and touring and travelling and all the other stuff she was doing to go visit him. But there were plenty of jobs in London for a talented young video game programmer; Mo wouldn't struggle to find work when he graduated. He was top of his class and on course to earn a first with distinction when he finished his bachelor's degree next year. Something about video games and programming spoke to Mo on an almost molecular level; Marcy was indescribably proud that she'd bought him his first console when he was just a kid. They spent the rest of the party laughing together in the corner, sharing stories and catching up.

…

By the time people were saying their goodbyes Mo had talked Bonnie into letting him drive them home in his shiny new car. She slid into the back seat a little cautiously and let Marcy sit up front and direct him. Mo actually wasn't as bad a driver as she'd feared and they made it home in one piece despite her misgivings.

"Thanks, B-Mo!" Marcy called as he pulled away from their front door. He waved over his shoulder before turning back onto the main road at the end of their street.

"Weird that he's so grown up now." Marcy murmured as Bonnie opened the door.

"Mhm, but time will do that to people. You wanna get a cup of tea or just head up to bed?"

Marceline took a moment to really look at her girlfriend before she made her mind up. Same intensely blue eyes, same round glasses, light spattering of golden freckles across her upturned nose and red-blonde waves falling past her shoulders. No different than she'd been the day before or on any other day. But Bonnie was an actual honest to God doctor of genetics now, officially one of the smartest people on the planet as if there'd ever been any doubt. And Marcy let a slow smile spill across her face. No she didn't want to do anything boring and mundane like having a cup of tea. She leaned in and slid her hands around Bonnie's waist; tugging her forward and into a kiss every bit as enthusiastic as the first one they'd ever shared.

"Bed. Or the sofa, or even right here on the hall floor. Not really bothered which." Marcy mumbled between kisses, "Wanna celebrate, if you do?"

Bonnie replied by taking her hand and pulling her gently towards to stairs, slipping out of her shoes and light jacket as she went.

Of all the things she loved about Bonnie, and there were a lot of things, it was that amazing warmth that really took her breath away Marcy thought distantly. She would never ever stop being amazed by how warm and how soft her girlfriend was when they were skin to skin; it got her every single time. And that talented touch that could make her see stars, she absolutely couldn't get her head around that either. She had no idea what she'd done to deserve such an amazing girlfriend and she very suddenly had an urgent need to tell Bonnie so.

"Huh, what?"

"I said, you're absolutely fucking _amazing_."

"…Thank you? I think you're supposed to tell me that after we've finished, actually."

"No, I didn't mean the sex. I mean, yeah that's pretty damn amazing too. But you, just you exactly how you are. You're just amazing and I love you so much."

"You're such a sweetheart, I love you too. But do you really wanna stop and have a conversation about it right now or do you want me to continue doing other things with my mouth?"

"Fuck, other things. Sorry, I got lost in my own head for a minute there but if you stop now I- _oh Jesus fucking Christ, Bon-"_

Bonnie grinned to herself and repeated the gentle circular motion with her tongue. Most of all she loved that she could turn strictly atheist Marceline into a devout believer for those few crucial moments just with the power of her touch. Possibly their neighbours loved it less but at that particular point neither of them could bring themselves to care at all. A few breathless minutes later once the other girl's hand had finally unclenched from the back of her head Bonnie slid back up the bed to wrap her arms around Marcy and rest her head lovingly on her shoulder.

"Now's when you thank me." Bonnie prompted her with a gentle teasing smile.

"Mm, can't, forgotten how to talk again." Marcy murmured in reply with her eyes still tightly shut.

"Typical. Just when I thought you were going to write a love song to embarrass me. Again."

"Hey, it's not my fault that the great British public adore songs about you. If you put the radio on 'Day By Day' is probably playing on at least three different stations right now. You're getting pretty popular on the continent too, I'm going overseas for my next tour." Marceline replied, opening one eye to check what effect that had had on her girlfriend. Bonnie just snuggled in closer and hid what was possibly the faintest blush against Marcy's shoulder.

"I still can't believe you wrote that, y'know. And then released it as a single, and now everywhere I go I hear you singing about me and our relationship and stuff. It's a really weird feeling."

"Do you wish I hadn't?" Marceline asked curiously. She rolled over onto her side and pulled the covers up over their heads so they were enclosed face to face in a little cocoon of bedsheets together. Bonnie giggled a little despite herself.

"No, I'm glad you wrote it and really glad it's a massive hit, that's your dream coming true. But it's strange because I'm so used to hearing you sing just for me or just in the house. Now I keep hearing your voice coming out of shops and cars; it's like you're stalking me or something. I keep looking around expecting you to be grinning at me from the corner of the lab when we put the radio on." Bonnie replied. It was a little difficult to get the words out around the enthusiastic kisses her girlfriend was peppering her throat and shoulders with though so in the end she gave it up as a bad job. She was glad Marcy's song was so popular and it was amazingly cute. She'd just have to get over her embarrassment at knowing it had been written about her.

"Y'know how many fangirls I have who'd give their right arms to be where you are right now?" Marcy asked with a grin between kisses. "My manager called while you were busy getting ready to graduate, apparently they've set up a fan club for me. Seriously. I have an actual honest to God _fan club_. This is all getting a bit mental."

"You tryna make me jealous, love?" Bonnie replied with a knowing smile.

"Maybe? I have this feeling that jealous Bonnie could get kinda energetic. Might be fun finding out." Marcy replied with her most wicked grin. A moment later she squealed and tried to wriggle away as merciless fingers tickled her ribs in revenge.

...

Apparently Saturdays were a thing that happened to other people but not to scientists. Marceline woke alone which she was perfectly used to; Bonnie would have snuck out of bed hours ago and was probably already elbow deep in science. The university had allowed her a day off to officially graduate but they wanted her straight back in her lab the very next day and it wasn't like she minded. So Marcy had a relaxing morning lounging around at home before she made herself a quick lunch and called a taxi. There was someone she wanted to go talk to.

It was a gloriously warm summer's day and the grass of the cemetery was starting to get long and full of daisies. She sat by the headstones and fiddled with the blades of grass distractedly, trying to think of a way to start.

"Hey, guess who. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner. It's been a crazy... I dunno how long. Life is just bananas at the minute, in a really brilliant way. Bonnie graduated from her PhD programme yesterday; she's officially Dr Sugar now." Marceline began. "I don't even have words for how proud I am of her. She's worked so hard for this for so long and they already have her writing her first professional solo paper. I was that proud of her; you should have seen how thrilled she was. And my new song is number eight in the UK charts and it looks like it's gonna climb even higher. We're just waiting for this week's sales figures but if it goes how the studio think it will I might actually have my first number one hit single on my hands. I'm still trying to get my head around that. Figured you'd want to know, though."

Marceline paused and stared up into the cloudless sky. What else was new? She still struggled to organise her thoughts sometimes. Oh, yeah. That was less fun but it was still news.

"Apparently Detective Hope went missing. I didn't want to ask Papa Bolshakov if he had anything to do with it, I don't want to know the answer. He's still on the business side of the family and I don't need to tell you how uncomfortable I am with that. But equally I can't ask him to change and I'm not going to act against him. Not now I'm finally allowed to just get on with my life without their interference. He's doing his thing and maybe it's selfish of me but I just don't want to have anything to do with it, I don't want to bring the whole family down or anything like that. I only ever wanted Hunson out of my life and now he is. What Petya does with the rest of the old Moscow crowd is nothing to do with me anymore. And you wouldn't want me to get your old friend in trouble, right? Ninety percent of what Petya does is perfectly legal; he's an excellent lawyer and he looked over all my contacts for me before I signed anything. So I just... yeah, not gonna overturn that particular rock. He's still my family however shady he is. And I need all the family I can get."

She paused, more out of habit and for breath than because she expected any answer.

"I really miss you. It's been awful without you, I keep remembering at odd times and having to find somewhere to go and have a private cry. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Maybe I just wasn't up to seeing you like this again, since the funeral. I just... miss you so much." Marceline murmured quietly. She put down the grass stems she'd been rolling idly between her palms and reached out to trace the name on the headstone gently with fingertips that hadn't trembled uncontrollably in months now.

SIMON NIKOLAI PETRIKOV  
Beloved Husband, Uncle and Brother

'Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.'

"I gotta go, Simon. Loads to do; apparently being a wicked successful musician is actually hardcore busy. Say hi to Mum from me, and Marshall and Aunt Betty too. Tell them I'm so glad you're finally home with them again even though I miss you terribly. Tell them I love them all so damn much. Love you, too."

Marcy sniffed back the tears that wanted to come with long practice. After Simon had been taken into hospital with his first heart attack she'd been half expecting another call, had lived every day waiting for it just a little. When the call did finally come six months ago Bonnie had driven her to the hospital in the middle of the night and held her hand while she signed the paperwork and said her last goodbye. Then she'd taken Marcy home again and sat up until dawn holding her while she sobbed inconsolably, unable to process that she'd lost her only remaining parent. But Simon was at peace finally; Marceline wasn't clear on what happened in the next world but she couldn't believe that her uncle would have gone anywhere without Betty. It was another empty space in her heart right next to where she'd lost her mother and brother but the edges weren't raw and painful in the same way anymore. No matter how badly she missed him Marceline was happy Simon had gone to his final rest peacefully in his sleep. She laid the bouquet of white roses she'd brought up against the headstone and rested her hand against the cool marble one final time before she stood and turned to leave the cemetery.

And that would have been her afternoon, lost in thought and alone with her memories. But at the gates a timid voice interrupted her and brought her back to the here and now; someone she didn't recognise was speaking her name.

"Excuse me? I'm so sorry to bother you, you're obviously doing something very personal right now. Just, um, you're Marceline Petrikova, right? The singer?"

Marcy turned and found she was being addressed by a middle aged man with a shy looking girl half hidden behind his legs. She couldn't have been older than about eight and she was staring up at Marceline with huge amazed eyes.

"Yep, that's me. Not often I get recognised with my hair tied back and my tattoos covered." Marcy replied lightly. She wasn't about to turn away a fan even if they'd caught her at an emotional moment.

"Sophie recognised your cane. She's your biggest fan, aren't you honey?" the man turned to where the girl was holding his hand in a death grip and she squeaked a little in reply.

"Hey there." Marcy told her, crouching carefully down so they were eye to eye. The girl squeaked again. "Bit shy, right? I was exactly the same when I was your age. It's really nice to meet you, Sophie. Do you have a camera? Wanna do a picture together?"

The girl looked like she might faint from amazement but nodded and her father handed her his phone with the camera app already open. She shuffled across to stand next to Marcy and they snapped a couple of photos together. Then unexpectedly the girl flung her arms around Marcy's neck in a tight hug.

"Are you here to visit the graves?" she whispered in Marcy's ear.

"Yeah. I lost my uncle a few months ago and I wanted to come tell him about my song getting popular. Did you lose someone too?"

"Mhm. My grandma. She was really nice and I miss her loads."

"I bet she's up there chilling with my uncle right now. He's probably telling her one of his funny stories and making her laugh." Marcy told her gently. The little girl showed no sign of letting go of her neck so Marcy just continued to hug her and ignore the way her ankles were starting to cramp for being crouched for so long. "Y'know, do you have a copy of 'Like The Night'?"

"I got all your albums. I like 'Like The Night' but 'Run, Jump, Dance' is my favourite."

"Yeah, that's a good one. It's named after some of the things I wish I could still do. But if you listen to track five on 'Like The Night' it's about losing someone, I wrote it a long time ago about my big brother. It helped me to write down all my feelings when I missed him too much."

The girl nodded again.

"I read about him on your wiki page. You had a brother called Marshall who died in a fire when you were little. And you got a girlfriend too and your wrote 'Day By Day' about her and how much you miss her when you're away on tours and how you count the time day by day until you come home again."

"Come on, Sophie. Your Mum will be wondering where we are." the man interrupted gently. Reluctantly the girl let go of Marceline's neck and stepped back, watching in fascination as she leaned heavily on her cane to straighten up again.

"Bye, Marceline. It was awesome meeting you."

"Bye, Sophie. It was awesome meeting you, too."

She shook the man's hand too and turned back to the gates; they watched her limp off out of sight together.

"Y'know, Dad, Marceline is my hero. And she's really nice in real life too. I wanna be a singer like her one day. Did you know her uncle died a few months ago? And she said he's probably chilling in heaven telling funny stories to grandma. And she wrote a song on 'Like The Night' about her brother and he died too when she was just little and she has a girlfriend and her girlfriend does science. Did you know that, Dad?"

"Yes honey, you told me five times since breakfast. You wanna listen to her album in the car?"

Sophie nodded, happier than she could remember being since her grandma had died.

...

There was soft singing and piano music filtering down from the converted studio room upstairs when Bonnie got home that evening. She smiled fondly to herself before hanging up her keys and placing the large box she'd been carrying on the floor. She opened it, waved down at the contents and made the hand sign she'd been practising all day. _Wait_. Then she closed the box again and headed upstairs.

 _"...I'm past one hundred thousand miles_

 _I'm feeling very still._

 _And I think my spaceship knows which way to go  
_

 _Tell my wife I love her very much.  
_

 _She knows."_

Bonnie smiled to herself again; she'd never really appreciated David Bowie until Marcy had made her listen to the original vinyl records the way they were supposed to be played. Space Oddity had been one of Simon's favourites; she knew Marcy had gone to visit his grave that afternoon and still missed him more than she was willing to really talk about. But there was every chance Marcy was recording and she didn't want to interrupt so Bonnie just stood outside until the song was finished and the last note faded away. It wasn't like she minded listening to her amazing girlfriend sing, it was one of her favourite things to do. Once the room was silent again Bonnie knocked carefully and let herself in.

"Hey babe, are you done?"

Marcy looked up from where she'd been fiddling with the inner workings of the piano.

"Oh, hey! I didn't hear you come home. Just figuring what I might wanna do for encores for Europe, but I can be done for now. How was your first day being a research doctor? Figured we could go out for dinner if you like? I don't feel much like cooking." Marcy replied with a smile.

"Actually I brought dinner home. I have a present for you and I don't think you're gonna want to leave the house once you see it."

Marceline looked at her curiously and came around the piano to the door, allowing herself to be pulled forwards into a kiss.

"C'mon, it's not a present that can wait too long." Bonnie murmured against the kiss before she took Marcy's hand and gently lead her out of the room and down the stairs. Marcy stopped dead in the doorway to the lounge, staring at the scene in front of them. The box had tipped over onto its side and the present was currently wandering around the lounge sniffing the rug and sofa curiously.

"Bon, the fuck is that? Is that a _puppy_?"

"Surprise." Bonnie said quietly. "Ok, let me explain. I saw an advert looking for a home for him and I figured you might wanna take someone with you when you're off touring around Europe. This little guy is a pedigree and he's got a pet passport so you can take him across boarders with you. Because I didn't want you to get too lonely, I know how much you hate being away from home so long."

Marceline was just staring at her with her mouth halfway open.

"So you bought me a _puppy_? Ok, right, I get that, it's really lovely and thoughtful. But this- I mean, what breed even is he? Babe, he looks like a cloud with legs. Is he a pedigree cloud?"

"Poodle. He's a pedigree Standard Poodle, he's gonna be the size of a Labrador when he's fully grown."

Marceline's face fell.

"Oh love, he's literally the cutest and you know I always wanted a dog. But I can't take an animal on tour with me. I'm really sorry but it'll be too noisy and upsetting for him; it's too noisy for me some days. It wouldn't be fair on his sensitive little ears."

But instead of looking upset or disappointed Bonnie just grinned wider. Marceline recognised that grin, that was Bonnie's devious grin. That was the grin she wore when she'd already thought of a counter argument for every possible objection. Nothing Marcy could do but just wait to be amazed by Bonnie's spectacular brain yet again.

"He won't be upset by the noise, sweetie. He won't notice it at all. He's completely deaf."

"You got me a deaf poodle so I wouldn't get lonely."

"Yes! It was Sue's idea actually. He's trained to sign language and he's got a vibrating radio collar so you can signal him in the park."

The puppy had crept forwards while they were talking and was cautiously sniffing Marcy's feet now. She carefully lowered herself to the floor next to him and offered her hand for him to investigate.

"Hey little man. Wanna come and play the European festivals with me this summer?"

The puppy didn't look up at her voice and Marcy remembered he was deaf and reached out to stroke his silky little ears instead. The puppy wagged his tail and nuzzled into her hand.

"There's a guide to training a deaf dog in the box too. He knows a few signs but he'll need some more training, he's just a baby." Bonnie told her gently.

"I'mma call you Schwabl, little guy." Marcy told him, even though he couldn't hear her. She carefully scooped the puppy up for a cuddle and he licked her face enthusiastically.

"So you like him?"

"Like him? I think I'm in love already. He's totally adorable. And only you would ever think to buy me a deaf poodle. You're so amazingly weird, babe."

Marceline looked up at her with a huge smile and very suddenly decided that things that she'd been planning on holding back until the autumn just couldn't wait after all. There was a huge surging tidalwave of love filling her chest and Marcy absolutely needed to share it right away. She carefully put Schwabl down and heaved herself upright again.

"Wait here. I've got something for you, too."

She ignored Bonnie's curious look and limped back to the stairs, up to the wardrobe in one of the guest rooms that was full of their winter clothes. It was the only place in the house Bonnie was unlikely to go poking around in until the weather got colder so it had seemed like the perfect hiding place. Marceline slid her hand into the pocket of her biggest winter coat and pulled out the small box she'd hidden there a few weeks earlier.

Bonnie was sitting on the sofa with Schwabl on her lap happily chewing the collar of her shirt when Marceline slipped back through the door.

"You're acting way mysterious, anything I should be worried about?" Bonnie asked in a voice that was only half joking. "Marcy? Seriously, you're freaking me out a little."

Marceline didn't reply straight away, she was too busy nerving herself up. Getting on the floor wasn't an easy thing for her to do since her injury and there was a bubble of some nameless emotion in her chest like something halfway between fear and excitement. She took half a second to assess her own feelings; was she completely certain? Marcy locked eyes with her girlfriend and nodded to herself. Yeah, completely certain. She took a breath.

"Bon, please listen for a minute. Alright? I was waiting until autumn with this because, I'm not actually sure why anymore? Something to do with being away most of the summer. I'm certain I had a good reason for waiting but nah, not waiting anymore. I changed my mind." She flicked the box open and held it out for her girlfriend to get a good look at. "And I have a whole speech prepared if you wanna hear it. But I have this feeling like you just want to hear the end of it instead because you're impatient as well as totally amazing. So, the end of the speech. I have literally never loved anyone as much as I love you and I don't think it's actually possible for someone to love someone else more than I love you. Like, it feels like love was invented just for us, you know? And you know I always said I didn't see the point in doing this. But thing is, I always really meant I didn't see the point in doing this with anyone else, right? I was thinking about it and about how we're both getting a little older and how I literally wouldn't even know how to begin again with someone else and I never ever want to have to. I'm definitely a one woman kinda girl. So for you? Yes, I can totally see the point when it's for you. Forever isn't long enough when it's with you. You are stunning, perfect in every possible way. You're like a work of art come to life and I can't even begin to tell you how lucky I am to have you. So, babe. Will you m-marry me?"

She'd so nearly managed to get the whole thing out without stuttering but from the expression on Bonnie's face Marceline was certain she hadn't even noticed. Bonnie gently moved the puppy to one side of the sofa before she slid limply onto the floor next to Marcy.

"You… you wanna…"

"Yeah, if you do? I think I pretty much wanted to marry you the first day I met you. But I figured it'd be polite to wait until I actually spoke to you first. Bon, are you crying?"

She was; the tears were streaming silently down her face. Marcy snapped the box with the engagement ring in it closed and pulled her girlfriend into a hug instead.

"Is this too much? Because we can totally just eat dinner and watch a movie or something and pretend I didn't just make it really weird." Marcy murmured worriedly. Bonnie just clung onto her and sobbed harder. "Or we can sit on the floor and cry, that's fine too. Did I do it wrong, love? If your answer's 'no' then that's ok, I can take that."

But then there were lips pressed against hers, a little wet and salty from the tears but Marcy couldn't have cared less about that. Bonnie took the box out of her unresisting hand and opened it then slid the ring onto her finger.

"…yes." she mumbled when she finally broke the kiss. "Yes, I'll marry you! I never thought you'd ever want to, thought you didn't believe in it. I think I'm in shock. You're not joking, right? If this is a mean prank I'll be heartbroken."

"Not joking. I am absolutely certain that I want to spend the rest of my life receiving mail addressed to Dr and Mrs Sugar. Because you don't want to have to spell Petrikova to everyone you ever meet forever, it sucks."

Bonnie was smiling up at her now despite the tears that were still slipping down her face. Marcy was sure she'd never seen anything half so beautiful in her whole life.

"We could just keep our own surnames." Bonnie finally replied a little damply through her tears.

"But then how would anyone know we're married?"

"Well the wedding rings and the fact I'd introduce you to everyone as my wife might be a giveaway?"

They kissed elatedly for a long minute on the floor of the lounge, until Schwabl jumped down from the sofa and tried to excitably chew Marcy's hand. They broke apart, laughing, and scooped the puppy up to snuggle between them.

"I'm gonna let this little dude out in the garden to relieve himself and then I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie with my _doctor wife_." Marcy said with a joyful grin. Now that the fear had subsided she was just left feeling like she was flying, like the happiness filling her was so light she was floating.

"Fiancée." Bonnie corrected her although she was grinning irrepressibly too.

"Just getting used to the way it sounds. I like 'wife' way better than 'fiancée'. How about we hurry this whole thing along and have the wedding as soon as I get home from touring?"

"Mum's gonna think you somehow got me pregnant if we're in a rush to get married." Bonnie replied teasingly. She shook her head fondly at the way Marcy's eyes lit up.

"Oh now there's an idea! We could fill this big empty house with a whole football team of tiny Sugars!" Marcy grinned back. "Then it'd be a-"

"No, whatever you're about to say, please-"

"-a _Sugar Bowl_."

"That was appalling, babe. Literally the worst pun you ever made and that's not an easy contest. How about we see how we get on with a puppy first?" Bonnie asked.

Marcy just grinned back in reply and opened the French doors to let Schwabl out into the garden. The funniest thing was that Bonnie thought she was joking. But starting a big happy family with the woman she loved most in the whole world? Yeah, Marceline really couldn't think of a happier ending than that.

~The End~


End file.
